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#Poetry ‘I wonder what came over me’ by Fiza Pathan

March 31, 2014

I wonder what came over me

By Fiza Pathan

478px-Vincent_Willem_van_Gogh_102

I wonder what came over me

when I cut my wrists to bleed to death the other day?

I surely did not want to see the life force vanish

and yet I scratched my tough skin mercilessly.

Then I tried to call for help

but the world was asleep when I uttered my sobbing cry.

The heat of fresh warm red liquid decorated my palms

which made me want to swoon in a faint.

I yet still wonder what came over me

when I pulled out the grey veins

in strands from my open wounds?

They looked so beautiful

that I wanted to string my banjo and play

a woeful tune to the god of death.

Then I tried to raise myself from the ground

but I saw nothing but darkness before my eyes.

I fell backwards and hit my head against a glass mirror.

It shattered and stabbed my flesh

as I sounded to the universe my silent scream.

I however wonder what came over me

when I pulled my skin from my white bones?

The flesh peeled easily as if it wanted

to be separated from my dark red and black muscles.

Then I tried to weep in pain but the tears of brine

salted my wounds and made my flesh burn.

The reeking stench of my body filled the area

where I lay down in a pool of bile and blood.

I wonder what came over me

when I started to stab my body with a blade?

There are deep cuts all over my body now

washing me with filthy body fluids.

Then I tried to holler to the darkness of the night

but the cosmos had turned its head away from me.

Yet I’ll continue to persecute myself

till I forget the past or the past forgets me.

 

Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan

 

From → Poetry

2 Comments
  1. They looked so beautiful
    that I wanted to string my banjo and play
    a woeful tune to the god of death.

    Wow, as far as metaphors go, that was amazing. And that portrait – you gotta love Van Gogh, I do.

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