Who Is Watching Me Poem by SEEMA SHARMA

Who is watching me,

waiting for me to betray myself

and show them

where my hollowness lies

so that HE might offer me

something to fill

or cure it.

Who is there to stalk me from any angle,

leaping from folds

of my hungry imaginations

like fire orphans seeking combustible fosters



they burn through my temples



learning to play with my subconscious mind,

exploit my most secret desires

and my most repressive fears.



The God orbits the Earth,
channeling pop-scriptures
into the harbour of my home

and I the weakest soul prostrate before the pseudo-saints,
the media-induct angels
that baptize me with shame
and flaunt an ideological perfection
an illusion we can only aspire to.