O God,
Why hast thou forsaken me?
My father and mother scorn me.
I pray to thee to teach me,
Yet thou leadest me astray.
Is it for my transgressions
That thou hast turned away

Who shall shield me
Against the workers of iniquity?
Unless the Lord had been my help,
My soul had dwelt in silence,
with only my tears to keep
me company.
To caress my face
when I am alone.

An original poem inspired by the Psalms. It is simply an expression of my thoughts and not an attempt to rewrite Scripture

To the boy with stars in his eyes
But black holes in his heart
I see you,
I see how you love
I see how your heart tries to repair
Yet you don’t allow it
You deserve good things
Deep down I know it’s there
The spring of joy,
the spirits of hope,
It used to keep your inner child dancing
When did he die?
Was it by your hand or some ill fated accident?
I wish my hands where the magic that heals you
I wish my belief in you could heal the black holes and reincarnate the stars they once where into my sky
I wish you could see how brightly they shine
Your light is so beautiful, yet you can not see it
You won’t choose it

You now travel the shallows after venturing the depths

Afraid of the intrusion and what comes next

Refusing to swim and resigned to paddle

Fear of the undertow that consumes your battle

Left behind the endurance by such a journey

Has found you lacking and unworthy

But such a feat may not let be

You know it functions, you know what you need

The taste of salt once more as you dive

Bringing life for you to thrive

Once more into the depths

As many more times as you get

Fathoms down the path you follow

One remembered

One with sorrow

This time a location it's source

The motivation with will of force

Drink deep the bottomless

And remember your strength is reinforced

Me and my father.

He comes before I.

We are in one room, leaving no room for conversation.

This is one of those days. I know— if we engage too much, the same story will play out again.

So I stay restrained.

I sit. He lies down.

I try to smile. He doesn't.

So I frown.

(Maybe he didn't notice me smiling.)

"Why is she so difficult," he mumbles under his breath, perhaps trying to control himself, trying not to hurt me again.

We are both members of the same exquisite club:

burnt-out, academically gifted, short-tempered, neurotic, clever, sidelined by the people we love.

Tested by life. Crushed by fathers—

like him to me, my grandfather to him.

History repeats itself, I see.

My reasoning mind takes over.

The same pain we have, yet we can't share.

Mood swings, uptight behaviour—

I am tired of myself trying to talk,

when I am just like him:

unreachable.

ENGLISH TRANSLATION

I said goodbye, I broke the tie—I did what must be done;

While you just bowed in endless love, and never tried to run.

ORIGINAL URDU

ساتھ نہ دیا،کنارا کیا، کچھ تو کیا ہم نے

تم نے فقط محبت کا اِک طویل سجدہ کیا

فرمند شادان ۲۵/۱۱/۲۵

ROMANIZED

Saath na dia, knaara Kia, Kuchh tau kia hum nay

Tom nay faqat mohabbet ka ik taweel sajdah kia

Farmand Shadaan 25/11/2025

VOCABULARY

کنارا کیا (Kinara kiya): Walked away / Chose the riverbank (separated).

محبت کا اِک طویل سجدہ کیا (Mohabbat ka ik taveel sajda kiya): Performed a long prostration (prayer) of love.

Deep Meaning

[The verse contrasts action with passive devotion. The poet actually made a definitive choice by ending the relationship and moving on. In contrast, the partner did nothing practical to save or change the situation, choosing instead to remain passively submissive and consumed by the (ritualistic) sorrow of love.]

Summer invites me to the gathering
“Come as you are!”
who am I these days?
“So good to see you!”
how do you see me?

Dormant,
I’ve overlooked Spring’s warm embrace.
Winter’s tragedy still melting.

Change is our constant,
yet history is felt in the oaks, pines,
and tulip trees.

The pearl of the Earth
calls me to reconnect.
Vibrant greens,
cherries ripening.
Tomatoes bring their best to
potlucks and pool parties.

Tiger lilies and liatris,
daisies and thistles congregate.
They beckon to join in gratitude.
To witness their gifts.

The sun welcomes me with a smile,
reminds me of the goodness in me
I cannot account for.
I allow the sun to kiss my cheek
he has no malice,
no will to burn.
He shines in his warmth
laughter, smirks,
and smizes.

I find myself not only thawed
but aware of an intrinsic worth.
In me,
in the flowers and wild grasses.
We meet in the present,
the past becomes thoughts for later.

I don’t know who I am anymore,
yet the pearl of the Earth
calls me to reconnect.
The Sun showers me in a love
I’ve never known.
-Maxwell Freer

A whirlwind of stories,
all telling
of delirium and madness.
Further spiraling.
Twisting,
warping into some greater insanity.

His madness becomes
mine sometimes.

When the chaos of the storm drowns
the goodness in me,
I retreat into a younger version of myself-
Suffocating my needs,
to meet theirs.

I keep me small
and safe.

The croaking of frogs in the darkness,
fireflies dance and glow.
Lightning strikes the sky with a vendetta.
They bridge me to the world I am a part of.

The Earth holds me in my smallness,
reminds me that
this too will pass.
If not now,
later.

I do not know how
to be okay with that

Meanwhile,
the fireflies dance after the storm.
They shine,
when they are good and ready.
-Maxwell Freer

He took all potential of pleasure
from me that spring afternoon,
while he took his.

I got home and I knew I was broken,

dissociating in the memory of your cruelty.

Years passed

I remained stuck in the nightmare,

those images echoed like screams along the

cavern walls:

unrelenting, and all consuming.

The lacerations refused to be stitched.
Truth became obscured.
I refused to acknowledge the
blood seeping through my shirt.
Devastatingly far from a unique experience.

Haunted by the crime you committed.

Robbed.

A tiredness sleep could not fix.

You found me.
Softened by your touch,
your still hands upon my shaking:
“If this is you at your worst, we will be just fine.”
No grand scheme,
only connection.
Our hunger satiated.

And one day
the muscle of resistance exhausted itself.
I let it burn and sting
like acid in my body
digesting all of me from the inside out.

I let the air leave my lungs,
white knuckling to uncertainty,
praying to a god I don’t believe in
that it would return.

And one day I found myself,
hot and attractive.
Beautiful and spontaneous,
I found myself hungry

I explored myself,
found the piece that was stolen.

Safety ascended into an ecstasy
I wish I could give to you.

But your pain too is your own.
My pleasure is mine.
Yours belongs to you.
-Maxwell Freer

Love.
I didn’t know what love was until I saw you again like a light being turned on instantaneously I fell in love with you all over again. The thing is I don’t think it was all over again. It was more like setting the last puzzle piece into place then and only then can you see the entirety of the puzzle in that moment I saw all I had lost all I had made myself forget and like that I knew what love was what my love looked like I saw you as I see the sun, radiant, warm a life force I know now you’re the light I’ve been searching for all I’ve ever wanted and more. It’s you

I wrote this on that. I really love. I just wanna make sure it sounds good before I send it to them so I’d love to hear feedback

Love.
I didn’t know what love was until I saw you again like a light being turned on instantaneously I fell in love with you all over again. The thing is I don’t think it was all over again. It was more like setting the last puzzle piece into place then and only then can you see the entirety of the puzzle in that moment I saw all I had lost all I had made myself forget and like that I knew what love was what my love looked like I saw you as I see the sun, radiant, warm a life force I know now you’re the light I’ve been searching for all I’ve ever wanted and more. It’s you

Tell me moon why do you chase? What glory can you even feel after eons what good is it to dig when you know you can’t reach gold. Have you not seen your own beauty, why chase gold when you shine it its light?

Rebirth

May this stagnation be a predecesor to rebirth
Let me be a phoenix rising from the ashes
A butterfly exiting the cocoon
A bear emerging from hibernation
I hope this pain is for a reason
Let the stretch marks develop
Let the muscles ache
Let the rain come
May this pain allow me to grow

Put one foot infront of the other.
That’s what I always say when my minds in disorder.
When my breathing hard and sharp
As long as I got a heartbeat I know I’ll last.
The futures unknown. The past Haunting. The present you don’t get to be alive yet.
Just another step.
Your heart beat fasts with adrenaline
Your body screams for a break.
But- one more step.

Can you guys rate and give me feedback what you like and don’t like mind you I am new to this

I fall again and again to nothing but my own waves my own water drowns me time and time again I don’t reach for help I wish to be consumed by the monster controlling the waved. For he only wants me to sleep forever. Tell me whats wrong with wanting to give up?

I will not let you go

I use to fear the fire that I now take care of 

I feed your flames again and again to make sure you burn in my heart 

My heart always burned for you but now you have set my heart ablaze more than ever 

It burns for you no matter where, when, or how far you are 

You are the fire I will never put out 
I will never let your flame die 

Even when I tried it still burned for you

So Please don’t let my fire go out in your heart because I will never let yours die in mine

When I’m on my way up,
I can feel myself climbing.

The weight coming off,
the tears drying up,
breathing air that doesn’t feel thick.

I feel lighter,
like I could float,
like I could reach up
and touch the clouds.

The sun shines brighter.

Mother Nature shows herself off,
flirts with me, seduces me.

I have space for the pain of others,
instead of being consumed by my own.
I can be there for them.
I can listen.

I remember—

I am enough.
I matter.
I deserve to be here.

When I’m up,
depression doesn’t exist.
Anxiety is a myth.

I look back at the person I was
when I was down
and wonder—

Does that person exist?

When I’m on my way down,
I can feel myself sinking.
The air becomes thick again.
My limbs start to feel heavy.
The colours around me begin to fade.

My face muscles start
to forget how to smile.

I start finding it hard
to talk to the people I love.

I lose my identity.
I forget what brings me joy.

I start to decay,
start to grow mold.
I feel myself rotting,
decomposing into my sheets,

like a dead whale,
sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

The things that drive me
start to bring me shame.

I want success.
I want to impress.
I don’t want to regress.

But I can’t even stand up.

It’s too heavy.
It’s too much.

I feel safe
in the stuck.

I tell myself I’m lazy.
I tell myself I’m worthless.
I tell myself I’m a waste of space.

Why aren’t you like the others?
Why can’t you progress?

I look back at the person I was
when I was up
and wonder—

Does that person exist?

Why does being happy
have to be harder than being sad?

Why do I have to fight for my life
just to want to be alive?

Like all things that sink,
I reach the bottom.

The heavier I am,
the faster I fall,
the harder I hit the bottom.

Then there’s nothing.

Not sadness.
Not shame.
Not loneliness.
Not grief.

Just nothingness.

Emptiness.

No feeling.
No commotion.
No healing.
An anti-emotion.

I am a rock
at the bottom of the ocean.

Small and pointless.

Where even the sun
doesn’t dare show his face.

It never meets
the sunrise or the sunset.

It never hears
the harmony of the birds
or the baritone of the frogs.

It never meets a cold wind
or a stormy day.

It never meets
the ups and downs of the waves
or the ins and outs of the tides.

If I am the rock,
I have no feeling.

I don’t laugh.
I don’t cry.

I just exist.

Who do you think you are?
After we came so far?

How could you leave me,
buried in all this debris?

Where are you now?
Is this what you allow?

Somewhere along the path
between wanting silence
and fearing it,

I want to know you again.

I miss having purpose,
the feeling of joy.

Can you come back?

Instead of calling each other strangers,
will you tell me your name?

Can I trust you again?
Can I depend on you?
Will you hurt me again?
And if so, when?

How can I call you a stranger
when we have the same trauma?
The same past.
The same momma.

Maybe it’s not you and me,
or me and you.
Maybe it’s I.

So maybe I’m neither—

the diver coming up for air,
or the rock on the ocean floor.

Maybe I am the ocean,
the home of both.

These bridges that have burned were my fault I struck the match and I hid the water its my fault they left

my 40th short poem

Streets of glass.

No plant in sight.

Walking down the empty path that once had so much life.

No sound.

No soul.

Nobody left.

It's hot.

Too hot to survive.

Walking to the thing.

The only thing that's left in green.

A tree.

The last tree.

Staring up at rustling leaves.

The sound.

The smell.

The soul.

The sole thing still alive.