Sunday, February 10, 2008


I wash myself of Hate
I cleanse
and caress off the results of not understanding
your told story
of premises stolen,
put together in a worldwide romp and shoulder brushings.
You took trust and used it like cheep toilet paper
spayed with cheap perfume
and sold it as expensive.

a .99 diva
blind, broke and with borrowed bad dreams
my only mistake was I tried to wake you.

I was honest with who I am.
And you told me your story.
The made up parts
Lined with holes
the edited versions.
Director Cuts,
cuts with sharp edges that drew blood.
My blood,
blood that ran wide and soon thin.
And I got weak and fell to the floor
in silence like a monochromatic character in a bad 40's film.
I breathe hard for my life in grand drama.
life that ebbs and falls between heartbeats
and like the harshness of the winter wind outside

a darker shadow touches my weaken soul
you step over me

broken and on the floor,
taking notes for your next story
to tell

more edited stories
more stories with the holes left out.
Based in personal lies.
Your myth
and my truth.
My trust.
My honesty.

But you never had a talent to memorize
the story of how GOD had taken my life before.
Taken my soul
and brought me to my knees before HEAVEN
And sent me back.
Grounded me
on Earth.

A Fallen Angel
told to stand.


Laying in my life flow
I stand.
Stand in my own Blood.
red beyond prison bricks.
Bricks that started walls,
Walls that form barriers.
barriers to move beyond.
A beyond past you for Me.
My voice.
What is right.
My might,
And tell my story as Reality

in the Light.

In the end
I don’t hate you,
I pity you
in your personal Hell built from within
knowing I escaped it
by having a key to unlock it and leave.

I Pity You by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

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