War by Laila Wael

Posted on May 20, 2013 by


I told him,

About the saltiness of the cold blood on the tip of the mouth;

The sound of a shot gun on the ear drums.

The feeling of achievement,

And guilty victory, when you are biting your tongue and

The only thing that comes with the blood

of your own lips

Is happiness.

The crowd points ‘the killer’, but

They don’t understand. I killed him and,

I am celebrating.

They yell “He was a good, good man, why?” they roar, like wild animals in the jungle.

They roar and I wonder don’t they know? That man,

Who took me on top of the hill, grabbed me by the throat and said,

Never ever say more than you can handle

It was only then when I

Bit his fingers and made him scream in pain.

But then he pushed me and broke my bones and threw

Me, my pieces, my bones, my property, my own,

Like ashes he splattered them across

The muddy pound of the pigs and said

‘If you want something, swim for it, you little piece of shit’.

Don’t they know that this good, good man,

Tied me to his house wall and

Lit flames underneath my weak, weak legs;

He told me the ghosts are waiting to haunt me

If I ever thought of leaving.

He told me that hell fire is the place

Designed for creatures like me,

He told me that beneath those walls was

Nothing but worse,

He told me that he was kind and true;

As he stepped on my face with his grimy shoe.

He told me that I am the reason for his shame,

As he buried me underneath the dirt of his

Guilt and fame.

You see, he

Taught me,

Different forms of rage

As he told me,

To never ever think of breaking the chain

And he made sure that

He would tie me


Before he goes to bed

Because he knows, what’s

Inside my head

But I was silenced,

The symptoms were quiet wild,

I tried to hold it still,

I swear I tried,

Please don’t

Show me another form of

Behaving my soul,


I was so many things,

He didn’t know.

I was so many things,

He couldn’t hold on to.

He tried to hold my legs,

And sneak a look in between them.

But then he found a waterfall coming,

From my head,

So he had to rush to

Drink from them.

At night when the shades are low, and the humming is loud,

When the only sound that’s coming,

Is the breathing of the dead and the

Voices of the clouds;

He was lonely,

Big, wide, and bull,

But one and only,

What’s the use of living?

When your are the holy

Master of your own house,

Your own sins,

Did you see those poor poor creatures?

And the sound of their begging for a penny?

His cry was much much louder

Although he had

More than any.


He could swear that he loves me,

Go on his knees and beg me for

My mercy,

For a good night kiss

He told me that he wants to hold me

At night like a lover

And show me the tenderness he has

Underneath his uncombed beard

And his filthy black nails.

He told me that he only wants the best for me

And that he is a there for me,

He would kill for a heart

Like mine,

He would buy me a house of gold,

He said I am like the divine wine

And he is an only Adam, who

Can’t resist it the charm of the

Forbidden Fruit.

Who would have though,

Me, an Eve,

Would do such a sin?

Who would have though such a divine wine,

Heart catcher, beauty holder, and eye-catcher

She was only as pretty as the roses in spring,

She was only quit as the birds in the morning

As hallow as the blowing wind,

Who would have though an Eve would do such a thing?

Posted in: War