War by Alanoud Zouman

Posted on May 20, 2013 by





I write these words not to harm you or hurt you in any way. I write them because for years, you still haunt me.


It’s been a while. So let me tell you this,


I still get frightened at the thought of accidentally meeting you in public.

Heck, I try to avoid places that I know you’d infest. It’s been years and

although I am a forgetful person, your memory embarks itself in my mind,

stained, not ready to leave just yet.


But I’m cool with it because perhaps it reminds me, that even though I’ve

been humiliated to an extent I didn’t want to reach, I am who I am today, because of you.





I don’t fight in guns and bitchy remarks. I am a writer. I’ll use you for

inspiration and I’ll draw out your weaknesses and paint characters with it.





I know you’re still there and I am sure that if we meet again it would be just as we left it.

Old friend, I can lower myself down to your level if you want.

Perhaps that’s the only way that you would understand what I’m saying. You

know, these words that I’m typing right now. The “I, while, this, haunt,

writer,” are words that I type just for you

and no one else.






Maybe I don’t want to meet you now and maybe not ever. But, if we do, and you’d wish to start this pointless, idiotic, childish war once more, then honey all I have to tell you is bring it on, bitch.










Posted in: War