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POETRY

ARSHI MORTUZA
Melancholy
Medicine
60 mg of Prozac
To soothe my nerves
Just in the nick of time
To stop an avalanche of pain
A capsule washed down
A throat that swallowed its screams
Tonight I am voiceless
You never let me speak
You can't read the stories carved on my skin
But you don't want me dead
You'd just up my dose of Prozac Sedate me into a synthetic slumber
And as my eyelids grow heavy
I ask myself:
Will you put all my days to sleep?
Tell me how that's different from An eternal sleep?
(2019)
Talk Sick
You're toxic. You talk sick.
Words so fatal.
Should come with a label.
Two bones and a skull.
Threats so deathly.
And not always empty.
Venomous phrases.
Killing me slowly.
A death so beguiling.
An ache satisfying.
Why does poison suddenly taste so pure?
Your head so twisted.
My heart conflicted.
A drunken soul still believing you're the cure.
(2018)
Arshi Mortuza is a last semester student of DEH, ULAB.