These mirages- they haunt me,
by Sara Javed
they make me a living misery.
People point at me, giggling, whispering.
'Mad, madness, lunatic.'
They all whisper and jab me,
their pointed fingernails cut into my skin.
Their hollow eyes all white and dead,
Those blood covered lips smiling.
Showing those sharp, stained teeth.
That pungent aroma invading my body.
Their limp, dead hair hanging like strings.
Others don't see them,
They say I hallucinate this horror.
But the smell of flesh and rotting skin,
Those hollow eyes,
Only haunt my nights.
Staring, never sleeping.
Watching, never weeping.