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the Journey of my mind

I cannot write poetry . However,what I write, I cannot call it prose. Whenever I've shown it to someone they said it was poetry. You read and decide then let me know



Friday, 30 October 2026

Bystanders By Joita Shah


Imagine a boa
Coiled around your chest,
Squeezing out your breath,
While all you can do is
Flail your limbs in vain,
Drowning in panic and pain.

But this is our reality now.

Powerful hands strike out
To silence the powerless,
Crushing their voices
With tear gas and violence.

Constricted, suffocated,
Starved of air,
People spill into the squares,
Gasping, clamoring,
Fighting for their rights.

Fake news and hate speeches,
Like vipers, spew venom.
The poison seeps through our minds,
Staggering our reason.

The boa coils tighter,
Squeezing out love and life.
Those who can break free,
Jam the streets
With defiant cries of
Azadi! Azadi!

Yet some of us
Just sit at home,
Confined to the screen,
Scrolling, liking, disliking,
Or merely reposting.

We wait, we watch, 

We hold debates and talks,
Hoping for the fearless
To one day set us free.



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