Written by Areej is a Saudi-born Pakistani citizen, now doing her B.A. in Ontario, Canada. Areej officially studies English and Philosophy but can be found at all hours gobbling up a book on something or other. While being a devoted DWL-ite, she is also (very much by luck, chance) a Poetry Editor at The Missing Slate. She happens to write poetry that some deem publishable, also by luck, chance, and in her spare time (if an undergraduate student can claim to have such a thing) she indulges in copious amounts of bad television and cheesy movies about kittens. Her favourite word at the time of writing this bio is "silly." Read more by this writer |
Paradox of Pain* The fire in your eyes * Black ashes of your soul scatter * Veneer upon facade of power Its not you that wears the mask I know you hear the words This is indeed the paradox of pain; Hands blood gilded An eternity after “There is indeed a paradox of pain; |
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