The Poor Thing Poem by Mohammad Younus

The poor thing,
lost in illusions,
still bears the weight
of childhood's false tales,
superstitions inherited—
her fitrah veiled,
ruined, steeped in
the nauseating stench
of illusion's flowers.

She clings to the illusion
of knowing existence's truth,
a house of cards crumbling,
laden with lunacy.
Ignorance and blind faith—
her futile dependence
on myths spun by
darkened minds.

In arrogance, she claims
control of her fate,
yet dances as a pawn
for charlatans,
the wisdomless gurus
who fractured her path,
guiding her life with
shattered hands.

Her world collapsed;
she tumbled
into the abyss.
Too late, she sees herself—
a soul fractured by illusions,
longing for truth,
yet unable to reclaim it.

MyKoul