I need saving.



It surprises me how you can be with everyone you love, and yet feel desolate of presence.

You stand like it’s required,
But who you are, is in siege,
and I don’t know how that happened.
And how panic slowly seeps in, and engorged my anxiety.
I don’t know how I cringe,
And carry on my duties.
I am a coward, who is scared.
Who will never revolt.
Because she never believed in

I don’t know what my essence is about.
I exist, and I breathe.
I stutter, and I fall.
I am disparaged,  disappointed.
I am turning to null.

I walk. I think.
Who am I?
What do I fear?
Why the perpetual pain.
I don’t know.
I don’t believe in much.
I’m just the girl who is drifting away into oblivion.
Yet, I stand and look for a reason to live.
But I still live without one.
Do you know what I am trying to say?
Yeah, me neither.
Just blabbering.
I don’t know.
Maybe,I am saying,
“Help me.”
Maybe I’m screaming,
“I want to be rescued from obsolete danger.”
I’m squealing in desperation,
“Be my saviour, anyone. Any stranger.”
Because I need it. I need hope.
I need saving.

I am fine though, no worries.


-Sabah Batul.




You listen, so I tell.
But you look away with disgust.
You tell me I’m repugnant,
and oh hell,
Someone else might listen.
So you send me off in a rush.
Then you hide my decisions, you tell me whose boss.
You make me fear the Gods.
Everything I do is condemned mistakes.
Impeached I am, and your despise propagates.
But why are you so quick to judge me?
Why does your mind force me into lines.
Lines you draw in fear of people,
people who lost their minds.
To desire,lust, greed,and power of the time.
Yet I’m wrong, and what I do might as well be debauchery?
You insolent fool, you mark my name.
Now I am required to pay penance in shame.
Now there is guilt, and disappointment every turn I take.
And all I tried to do was tell you,
Because I thought you wanted to listen.

-Sabah Batul

The bad men.




The bad men, they come out in the open now,
They brave the loss of dark,
And ever so slow they find ways to our hearts.
We let them in as family,
Then those selfish beings
put us down enough to make us believe.
Believe that their scrapes we can live off of.
Make us believe we are inadvertent obsolete thoughts.
That we’ll be gone, and paid no heed.
Gone with a puff like their good weed.
The bad men come out now,
They pay frequent visits
Their facade is a lie they don’t care to live.
What about us??
We strive to find a care.
Someone who would tell us we aren’t burdens to bear.
Someone who wouldn’t care about the Orphan label we share.

Look out for the bad men till then, love.

-Sabah Batul


Until I have to say Goodbye.




Those few happy people, yes they exist.
Those few left, who are truly happy.
They make the best of every day.
How does it feel when they don’t stay?
How does it feel when you have to watch them die?
You have to watch them beg to be euthanized!
Let me tell you how.

I stand and watch as his
life is pulled out of him.
I stand and watch him lose control.
He does smile, and makes sure I do too.
He smiles to hide all his pain and ordeal.
That devilish smile, it’s our driving will.
But every day,
Slowly, dramatically, every day.
We lose him a little.
We watch him
bleed out his soul that wants to stay.

His death skulks around us like an old friend.
But death, how do I prepare myself to lose his scent,
His presence, his voice, his walk, his lips, his touch, my strength.
He brought me happiness when I thought it was just a myth.
He brought me life when I didn’t want to breathe.
Now he leaves, and it’s unclear why.
How can the Gods watch and let this happen?
How do they let us all cry?
Who knows.
I can’t care to ask anymore.
So I stand by his bed.
I simply stand and love.
Love him till his last breath.
I wait for him to depart.
I wait for my life to leave my side.

He is smiling right now.
Oh, that devilish smile.
So I stand by his bed.
I simply stand and love.
Love him till his last breath.

I will, until I have to say Goodbye. And I will after that as well.


-Sabah Batul

A song.



I dreamt as a kid.. I sang a song.
I sang tales of the future.
Stories of travels
to bays of nature.
Stories of handsome men
I dreamt.
They saved me from all their torments.
I sang about the world,
and the love it hold.
Unaware of tremors
Of souls sold.
Of course, I didn’t know then what I know now.
About fallacy and pretence.
About cussing and hurting crows.

Yet I  sing through the night.
But now my songs accompany wet pillows,
With infatuations imposed.
A different story it is now
Story of struggles and scars.
Of lessons and days marred.
But you know, you still got to sing your tune,
Kindle for inner warmth.
You sing, for your different soul,
Because soul’s need to be heard.
To be emancipated, to grow old.
So dream and sing.
Be peculiar and quirky.
Whatever you do,
Don’t live for the world’s mercy.

It is already a scary world. No need to add to what’s already lost.

-Sabah Batul

She escapes.



You committed a sin,
And now your faith is sealed.
The old man said crying,
Trembling with fear.
He was scared of the future near.
The worst would be a burden to carry.
She was deemed impure,
Given into the lures
Of something which was warning to heed.
How she wished someone would take her stead.

Maybe that’s why she sat writing a note,
A blade in one hand.
Ink in the other.
Impervious to the circumstances.
She should have been imperious maybe.
But all the ink wouldn’t explain,
What gave her dark art leverage.
She wasn’t gullible, or drowning.
She was smart, empowering.
But no one knew,
Or asked.
Anonymous she might die at last.
She slit her wrists,
Blood drips down.
Angst flows through her veins.
Oh how relieving as the aggrieved soul drains.
Drop by drop, impurities turned to purity.
Cage to freedom.
And suicide to life.
And she escapes.
Judge her as much as will,
But your drunk life ridden eyes
won’t see her case.
And so…. She escapes.

She explains why, but I’ll never understand.

Now you stay, she left.
We hear cries of her family.
You hear their pain.
But at least she is happy now,
Somewhere away from this loathed town.
She escapes. Repeats the third person.
Again and again with regret.
She escapes. She escapes.
-Sabah Batul

Our great men of hope.



I could have written this better,
but I can’t. Anything I say might just turn out to be a travesty.
But I will try.

Breaking points reached,
And ropes are his hope tonight,
As beautiful he might have been,
Even though he had put on a tough fight.
At least was known he lived better than many.
Died on a higher stance.
Guess it makes you worry,
How many Andy’s did we lose to chance.
Chance which was at the hands of stake holders insolent,and conceited.
We let it pass by,
We didn’t want to feel smitten,
By things we can’t control.
Like his friendships on those consecutive tedious days.
A witty narrator, and a band of different tales.
He took him under his wings,
Or maybe it was the other way.
They made each other happy, brought change.
A good, fatal life.
You see though, our beautiful man
wasn’t just beautiful. He was smart.
He left the living profanity clueless as ever.
And did what wasn’t done before.
No matter what exquisite talents the subject hold,
He gave a good quote.

I end curtly now without explaining much of my niche deductions.
And I quote him for the formidable man he was.
“I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really.
Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

-Sabah Batul





The swords were sworn to secrecy,
the pestering was stopped.
Lives were spared.
The carnage at halt.
They thought Precious was solicited,
by Kings, honorable of their time.
And was announced,
Oh dear villagers,
rest tonight.
Years will pass by, as they should.
Light hits the blades.
Yes, we are at war.
War with the grotesque creatures.
The creatures which lay low.
They come out at twilight.
When the sky sheds black snow.
When the time is right they will attack,
as they did before!
Please stay put my Knights of valour.
Make use of the armor you wore.

The innocent need sleep tonight.
So fight tomorrow for them.
Let’s stay close.
Our time is near.
Heed to all my warning!

Then when the skirmish is loud.
Brawls and chaos everywhere.
The mighty fall down.
The dead will stay awake.

A beautiful dark battle will be fought.
Prudent people live on.
This is your tomorrow.
Listen to what I say.
A war is coming your way.
And my jobs done,
My premonition shared.

-Sabah Batul


Let’s stay friends?




My heart feels faux pain,
Unaware if it is real.
Missing you!
Looking from afar isn’t ideal.
A charitable meet,
Without thoughts of the future.
Let’s live in today darling,
give up your act of mature.
I don’t want your forever for me,
just have a conversation, maybe.
Be my fling friend.
Stop pushing me away,
Stop trying to protect me,alright?
I’ll lookout for me.
And I’ll find peace somewhere.
So let’s flirt and laugh,
Talk and shake hands.
Date and depart.
Hug and promise never to call,
And break the promise as well.
Let’s have late night calls.
Beautiful morning text’s.
I’ll video call you all decked up,
wait for your voice,
have small fights,feel vexed.
Let’s post to each other letters online.
Do all the cliché drama,
Go out and dine.

Whatever we do..let’s just live our day.
I’ll be heartbroken later,obviously.
But I’ll have my friends to discuss about you and me.
We’ll gossip, share ice-cream over movies.
And soon I’ll be over you.
Ready for a new crush.
So walk away when we are done.
It was good what we had, while it lasted.
I’ll just hang out here now, watching you go….
I’ll have company,
My hoes before bros.
But hey,
Let’s stay friends?

-Sabah Batul.

The walls.



The walls of his blunt blank thoughts,
remain empty when looked in.
There are a few random colored dreams.
Black, green, crimson.
A few devoted songs,
to anonymous names and grins.
A few encounters,
Incidents, dramas, scorned nights.
A few speeches,a few fights.
All unheard, all to himself.
This is his safe haven.
His locked up room.
The walls enclose his agitated needs.
And the walls suffice most nights.
But sometimes, being heard even though spoken is required.
So he stares wide.
He speaks, they contemplate.
But no one surely understands.
The walls remain locked.
He remains chained.
To his own blank thoughts.
And HE, our leading pathetic soul.
HE is left unnamed.

-Sabah Batul