Even people who live in slums smile with joy when they hang wind chimes on their rusted door. They call the broken house an embellished home.
- – Rimsha Qazi
Who should I complain to about the thorns in my soul? The world refuses to return my ornaments before the sun rises, and you refuse to speak to me when the sun sets.
She disappoints me and so does Earth. When I await the warmth of the sun, the rain disappoints me. When I wait for you after curling my hair, my father threatens to abandon me, and when you finally arrive before dawn, her cries frighten me.
– Rimsha Qazi
“You will marry a boy, and raise him to be a man, without any expectations of appreciation.” Her mother explained. “You’re not his equal, nor will you ever be his equal. One day after you’ve bought health, wealth, and happiness into his home, that was once a house, do expect him to point out all your flaws, abuse you, ridicule you, and force you to give up your kingdom. Just remember, you’re a woman, the purpose of your existence is your man.”
– Rimsha Qazi
If you ever limit my dreams and question my sacrifices, I’m going to bury you alive meters deep.
I’m going to dig my fingers into your flesh, till your corrupted blood paint my nails.
I want your painful cries to be the alarm clock sound that wakes me up every morning and look forward to coffee.
I want the scent of the pleasant river to make you beg me to drown you in it.
You’re a mistake that takes just a moment to erase but my hate is memorable.
– Rimsha Qazi