Oh, fear of mine!
Come reveal your sharp edges on
my crumbling skin for perhaps then
my feverish soul will witness –
by the dusky whispers of the sky, and
the blistered hands of my father, and
the softness of your deception –
what you are in your truest form:
A haunting, acidic lie, that I may use
to excuse myself from this life.
Anam Iqbal
Anam Iqbal 