This poem is about the increasing violent control of women’s bodies, choices and lives in Pakistan.

When I close my eyes I see

The million pieces of my heart

Gleaming With Their Truth

Yes, this world has shattered

Any thought I had, any dream I had

Yes, this world has killed everything I ever held dear

Yes, this planet has cruelty galore

But, nobody nobody can take away

My right to write.

You can’t.

Nor can he. Nor can she.

All you can do is call me names.

Gossip about me.

Judge me

And hurt me.

You are cowards. That is what cowards do.

But you cannot tell me what to think

What to write.

How To Be.

Yes, you can ignore HER head

As it broke off her body

With a Knife that Misogyny Put

In Society’s hands

That Killed every woman’s dreams.

And Silenced every woman’s voice.

I, have a right to my tears.

You cannot take away my right to grieve and cry

About women who are society’s plastic sex dolls.

Dead By Gang Rape From

Ego, Cruelty, Violence and Shame

Dead before their time

Dead for no reason

Dead because they loved

Dead because they said no

Dead because they were hurting

Dead because nobody cared.

Dead.

Don’t you get it?

They are dying now.

A decade or two ago

They would be divorced.

Doomed to live with their family

Hating their very existence.

Sad, but alive.

Used, but there.

Slowly killed, but accepted, sort of, maybe.

Now they are killed.