Yasmin Hemmat

I was born in a distant and solemn
Kingdom of hatred and destruction
Near the silent sea of fire
In a city crowded with gloom
...

In the pursuit of unknown
In the valley of shadow of death
I am standing on the brink of oblivion, alone
Bewitched by his rapturous breath
...

Amidst the labyrinth of mirrored halls,
A myriad of reflections, each echo recalls,
With devilish laughter, she screams and declares,
'In mirrors resides a witch', this truth she bears.
...

Beneath a sky stitched with shattered words,
A city crumbles, its streets a blur of smoke.
The air hums with the rustle of forgotten names,
As voices scatter like ash in the throat of a dying oak.
...

I am the temple
where my own ghost
kneels
like Medusa
...

My quill drips with my blood,
While I'm writing to the oracle of my imprisoned soul.
The river of blood soon floats into a flood,
And ichor effuses without control.
...

In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was Pain.
Pain was the prelapsarian language.
Pain is the crimson apple
...

I hang upon the wall;
alone,
fragile,
silent.
...

The dark moon
shines upon the graves,
across the mist-veiled plain of night.
...