the ugly writers


The Criminal


I heard

They killed you

Shot you in the head

Three times

They felt

Just one was not enough

To vent the hatred

they had nursed

A long time

I heard……

They buried you,

Somewhere far

Hid their crime

In wilderness

As if

Just leaving you dead

Was not enough

To vent the anger

that pulsated

In their cold blue veins.

….. Days passed,

Then months went by

I heard the most unusual things

Some said

They saw you around the road

Some said

That you were seen alive

While others prayed at the sound

Of your name

As if you were so unjustly killed

As if you were a saint

I did not stop to hear


and I went home again…….

……. Now I know one thing for sure

The first time in my whole sad life

I will guard myself

As I know you well

I shall lock my door tonight.

Catch more of Maryam Viqar with her previous poems:

call me home  man who can't be named  

And catch her on Instagram at Myrapoems

Default image
Maryam H. Viqar
A seeker, dreamer, scribbler, reader, writing poetry as musings of a restless mind....and yes 'the sight of the stars makes me dream' too....
Articles: 53

One comment

Leave a Reply