She sits atop her throne, spinning
A double-edged string of sharp remarks,
they flow in a train
Compartment after compartments of you are not good enough’s
and no one cares for you
and you’re lying to yourself, if you think you were important to them.
Slicing open ancient wounds that have barely healed
She sits atop her throne, never satiated, always hungry
feeding on my open wounds.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
The Birth of No: I declare No two letters one giant word some days standing in front of guilt, fear Other days standing free I
I like to stew on somedays—in the bubbling, gurgling thick starchy liquid of doubt. It’s warm and cozy: a pot of unyielding fears and questions.
