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The Mother Omen

Written by Kritika Iyer | Edited by Yashvi Grover

This is what it takes.

This is what it takes.

Well, I always love you.

It just takes 

A little to like you. 

Takes a little fuel, takes a 

Little patience,

It takes


A lot of hatred

for me to

Suppress you. 


It takes hatred 

For any villain working

Against you. For any

Reason to stop

Trying, keep going. For anya

Effort it may take

To finally be able to say that


I’ve been loving you but I haven’t

Been awake, 

And sometimes it just takes too much to see.


I forget that you 

Can hurt. I forget 

And it makes me

Feel worse,

But when 

it takes a little 

it takes a lot,


And yet I hate that

I’m the reason you believe

It should take anything at all. 

I met you at the wrong time.

I met you at the wrong time.

What you don’t have anymore. That’s 

how I learned who you used to be. 


You used to be someone 

with no headaches. Pounding, wobbling,

a mind on the loose 

type of headaches that leave you 


No way out. 

But your blue light glasses help, 

and they make you look cute. 


You used to be someone who danced, 

and not just after a fruity drink or two 

and the right mix of reggaeton beats 

to help your hips along. Your bad knee, 

you say, is likely from years of training, 

of pounding the floor with your feet 

racing to stay on beat. Now when you walk 

up and down the stairs one too many times, 

you complain of it, the throbbing in your left knee, 

the fear you’re getting old, you’re not 

who you used to be. 


You used to be someone 

who could balance chemical equations. 

Everyday, twos and fours and 

fours and twos were drawn around compounds

to find the sweet spot. Your brain was more 

than just a container, you could talk about more 

than just your best friend's mom 

having sex with her trainer or how 

that girl from high school got married already. 


You used to be someone with a car, 

a used navy blue Volvo to be exact. 

Now, you steer with no direction 

and drive through red lights

without paying attention, but before 

you used to ride with such ease. 


You used to be someone who loved 

all the time. 


You used to be someone 

who could do all these things. 


I’ve learned all you were from all 

you don’t have, and I’m starting to fear 

that you’ll soon have nothing.

Nothing to fear

Nothing to fear.

You have nothing

to fear,


life goes on.


There are no birds

in this house


flapping along.


When I wake 

in the morning


my hunger is gone.


Still I reach 

for your hand


callused and strong.  

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