FERT

They called it a consultation - a word soft and mild, But I came as a queen who would not be beguiled. He asked for my story, the root and the vine, But I fed him the branches, the truth kept in line. I wanted a wizard, a mind that could glean The unspoken confession , the whole, unseen scene. I stood in his temple but prayed to my pride , And left half my sickness to fester inside. He worked with the fragments I deigned to provide, While the monster, in silence, grew certain and wide. The medicine failed —the true target was missed, A cure for the lie I had wrapped in my fist. Now, listen… I’m free from the flesh and its cost, But the freedom was won by the life that I lost. The question you ask: “Do they fall sick?” Yes, they do - But the sickness that masters is the one you outrun true. So I write from the far side of grace, A memoir of pride from this desolate place. Be bold with your healer , be naked, be plain. A half-told affliction is a self-inflicted chain. For the all-knowi...

Remember that time you swore your love was infinite, Recounted the rogues' gallery of exes before me, And rejoiced that you'd finally found your harbour, your port in the storm? You blessed the day our paths collided, Marvelled that the universe could create someone so uniquely me, And crowned me with the title of "irreplaceable." For a while, I wore that crown like a king. Your conviction was my religion. Genotype was just a science experiment we were sure to pass. Religion? A mere technicality. Tribal lines were for maps, not for us. The elders, with their weary counsel? They just didn't  get  it. We had a love so powerful, it could file taxes and fix a leaky faucet. That was our belief. Sure, we had our battles, but love was always the white flag. One look into your eyes was all the spark I needed to ignite a whole new war. We thought we had it all figured out. Then the meteor - not just a lightning strike - hit. And we shattered. We didn't make it down th...

Let me tell you of a man, Mr. Viktor by the name, A fifty-three-year-old marvel (though he'll give a different claim). He'll shave off years or add them on depending on the fight, "You're all just children!" he'll declare, especially late at night. His eyes don't see the sunshine, but his mouth is always bright, Spilling tales with the confidence of a solar flair at night. He  said  he was a soldier,  claimed  he was a cop, A helicopter repairman - though he's never seen the top. He  alleged  he made his millions, before his voice could break, He  alleged  he sent his siblings abroad for goodness sake! Every niece and every nephew, flown out to pastures green, Though they all live down the street - but please, don't interrupt the scene! He speaks of Prague and Paris like a man who's been and seen, A global sage who's never left, if you know what I mean. He  fabricated  a Russian love , a romance hot and spicy, A daughter now of thirty-...

Growing up was a mess, so I made a vow to my unborn children: You will have the best of me. The love my parents couldn't give, I promised to pour out in floods. I clawed through the ache of a childhood starved of warmth, clinging to the hope that I could build something better. Academics - checked. Job - secured. Husband - found. But I married a man still bleeding from his own unhealed wounds . Two broken people don’t make a whole. They just bleed on each other. So even before I could hold my pristine child, the furnace of marital strife had already scorched the softness in me. I became the version of my mother I swore I’d never be. And my father? His ghost lives in me too; passive aggression leaking out like stench from an open sewer. I thought I was free. I thought I’d left lies behind. But my own faults stacked up like cargo, and suddenly, I was always on the defensive. Then came the comet's flash ; that bright, burning promise of the mother I’d be. But it died before it ev...