A conscious victim

Of unknown anxieties,

Invoking in her

demonic mischief

Which had slept

Like a monster

For many centuries

She began to whisper

About dreams turning dark

And uncanny happenings

Until one day

When someone said, “hark,

There she goes


for the Devil.

Catch more of Maryam Viqar with her previous poems at The Ugly Writers or by clicking on any of her works below:

call me home man who can't be named  

And catch her on Instagram at Myrapoems