A force to be reckoned with recounts its endless cycle.
*Trigger warning for Mental Illness.
Illustration by Jaden Tsan (Graphic Design Director, The Continuist) IG: @jadundun
By Zahra Yassiri (she/her, IG: @yassirizahra)
The world drowns
Void of any sound
They all drop dead -
The moment l open up,
An endless weep fills
Their tiny little head.
I am not graceful
Not at all, in fact
You'd cover your ears If
you heard my screams
Like a helpless mother
Deprived of a daughter,
Somewhere, grieving.
My voice isn't soothing
Chalk like, it scratches
The depths of despair I
choke while l cry
My eyes pop out
Of their sockets
Their heart plummets Eyes
averted, mere glances
Given like drops in a desert
I am only seen as a hazard.
A blizzard of emotions
Devours me of power I let
it slowly wash over The
remaining anger The rest is
all silence Till drought
takes over.