I throw myself on the bed, sprawled on my back,

Mattress and pillow conformed to my silhouette.

I naturally hug the decade old bear to my chest,

An act from childhood that stays with me yet.

Wispy ceiling cobwebs start to blur while I stare -

I can’t! I refuse to blink and let the tears escape!

Eyes left wide, but it’s no use as water wells up,

A testament to my sadistic and violent soul rape.

My single wish: to curl up on my side, a ball,

My position when I was sheltered in the womb.

Listen! There comes the sound of footsteps,

A slight breathtaking pause and they resume.

I must protect myself.

In what respect?

Body?

Pride?

I’m faced with a dilemma, of which way to turn,

Should my back be to the wall, a roll to my right?

I see a cluttered room and the eye of a window,

Offering a blank view of the sky at such height.

The shadows, your guards, usher in silently first;

You enter, personification of the bringer of strife,

A tall, lean form shrouded with secretive intents,

The eye’s light glinting off the unsheathed knife.

Would I be brave? Keep my gaze fixed and firm,

While offering not my back but my willing heart?

Could I endure the shock and pain of your thrust

And utter not a plea of help as you rip me apart?

I am not.

I cannot.

‘Tis the first time.

Did you expect me calm?

I lean to my left and my vision is soothed by

The unbroken expanse of white-painted bricks.

No clutter or

Author’s note: I know it’s not balanced. But then again, my body’s not perfectly symmetrical either. :)

I think I might have bitten off more than I could chew. (Ah! I’m fasting – month of Ramadan – and I’m so hungry!) A rhyme scheme and a new kinda format/structure…and longer lines, too. Hee hee. What was I thinking?? Oh, well, you can’t get better unless you practice! Or you don’t find out what isn’t your forte until you try everything! Do you guys think it’s former or latter with me and rhyming?

Terima kasih, everybody! (That’s Malay for “thank you”.) And the height I’m referring to is that I live on the 23rd floor of my condo. It’s annoying waiting for the elevator and storms can be freaking scary! Listening to Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit, or Slipknot is usually not conducive to Izzy’s attempts at rhyming poetry. Must remember that, Dizzy.