By Mursal Kharoti
Inching towards a new knowingness
I reel at nothing, glance only once
figure out my tangled anxieties like a knot, hot, red iron faults.
I eat faster to get to the next thing, next thing, the next thing,
pushing through like a baby, light crack, scream
Restless body but a
brave new mind,
The sky is still blue, purple, pink
River running, still running
I could blame it on their syringe, I can blame myself
I could eat guilt faster, next thing, next thing, next thing.
Mursal Kharoti is a 24-year-old Psychology student at the University of Sussex. With lived experience of mental health her writing is a testament of growth, healing and navigating a complex world. Being a British Born Afghan, her poetry takes root in mystical poetry and flowers into contemporary confessional poetry.
You can find her online.
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