Who'd wish to be her?
She seems to always panic,
Her interests appear mundane
Just boy bands, romance novels, matcha latte.
There isn't anything spectacular,
It's not cool to be basic,
To consume content sugary and plain
To merely wear beige, white and grey.
I always sparkle with glitter
Always strutting with justified avarice.
My likes, clothes layered with latent intent
My way of life is intense, done with taste.
Yet I wish I could be her
Because it's her you're with
The one who's laid the claim
She's the one, the lover in your gaze.
Wherever, whenever, I should be better
Always striving, forever a romantic
Always putting and getting the work in
Yet the stick I draw is shorter,
My state is never better, always manic
This state of loneliness, forever trapped in
Because she's taken you away.
May 24
May 24, 2026 at 10:39 AM UTC
In the morn I was born
To a sky of thunder and storm.
Oh Heavenly Father, lounging on your throne
You gorged not me, but a stone.
For wiser and stronger I am
Though fivefold I lost to Your wrath,
Thrice that my waves have crashed
Brushing Past the shackles of Man.
The Past which left mothers forlorn,
The Wrath which left ****** scorned,
The Hate which left witches scorched,
All from lies, You, Father, told.
About the youth which the maid leaks,
The wisdom which the crone gives,
The freedom which the ***** seeks,
All truths which You twist and lead
To weave the hero’s lion pelt
To cement the ivory tower’s ascent
To sing life to the Prophet’s lament
All who become, Father, Your essence.
All who become right and divine,
Glory to them! Glory to thy!
Glory, Glory to thine scythe!
****** are the ones who defy!
The ones who bleed in sin
The ones who age and limp
Those who refuse to stay within
The guides of Your Holy whims.
Lowly and ****** You point and scream
Lowly is she who eats and thinks!
****** is she who f*cks and sleeps!
****** and Burned is she who dreams
For You, Father, fear the prophecy.
From these broods, come will she
To do unto You what You preach
Spouting from the womb You envy.
Envy, envy of what you crave,
To breathe life into a babe,
To know that in its veins,
It is Your blood that emanates.
And so those before me suffered,
Burned, ***** beaten, bartered,
Mothers, sisters, daughters, lovers,
All fresh lamb to the slaughter.
But Your prayers and preying failed,
For I grew, hidden in a cave,
Unbridled, unburdened by your gaze,
Did the Mother have me raised.
The Mother whom you call Gaia,
The one who named me a messiah.
I am not Your Eve or Pandora,
For I was raised to be Jupiter.
So I will have bitten no apple,
No pomegranates I shall nibble,
Cast aside will be Your bread and sickle
And with my thunder, the skies shall ripple.
For the tears the maid and mother shed,
The indignity the hag and harlot felt,
Their ashes scattered there, even yet
The crosses where they all bled.
So I, Jupiter, must ascend
Mother, sister, all I shall avenge.
Despite the roar and rage You have left
Fourfold or eternally, I shall collect
The forgiveness, the sorrow in our debt
For, I, Jupiter have ascended,
And my thunder shall be Your end.
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 2:43 PM UTC
I think about Death sometimes
He comes unannounced these days.
No prayers needed, no crushing pain.
Sometimes in the middle of a laugh or play
Sometimes in the middle of the night.
I don’t want to think about Death.
Not when laughing with cousins.
Not when reading works of Austen.
Yet when Past pulls Her thread--
No, no I shan’t turn my head.
Looking back has ****** my self,
And turned my heart to a pomegranate
Whose wounds pulse and bleed,
Not blood, but trails of wineapple seeds,
A trail which leads to the dead in me.
So Death finds me and my thoughts,
A red trail to the underbelly of my world
Hounding me midnight and morn
Pounding my head and leaving me torn
Over sorrows for which I never payed
Over paths which I shall never pave.
I don’t want to listen to Death
To his whispers about Life, His cousin.
She forgets you, He chimes in.
Always gifting others chances and attempts
Always letting others bury their hatchet.
But Death never thinks about me
At least, that’s what He claims
I’m the one here giving chase
When I let the scale beat me
When I let my knees give up beneath me
I’m the one calling Him, you see
When I lock the door, shut the curtains
When I shove everything into the closet.
Because Death never comes after a person,
Only beckons and whispers, “Come to me.”
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 2:52 AM UTC
Bonsai is art my parents like
They cut here, there, left, right,
Trimming off the unkempt leaves
Cutting off the branches clean
Off of their precious banyan tree
To achieve the perfect shape
Sketched in a dog-eared page
In the book their forefathers gave.
Showing off is a must, it seems.
“What pretty leaves!” they squeal and scream.
It is no theft, but surely a steal
To have such a perfect banyan tree
With leaves and boughs so petite
Unbothered by pests and bees,
Oh, my parents always sigh in relief
Thank God theirs is dainty and neat!
Not like the beast scarring the scene
The wild and free banyan tree
With wasps and ants in its leaves
With ghosts and jinns lurking within
With the stink of **** at its feet
Grows the great banyan tree.
To stand beneath its shadowy canopy.
To stretch my hands to sky and infinity
Oh, to provide such shade and love
With roots so stable and firm.
This longing, this desire floods my trunk
Towards the banyan, I stretch my arms.
What I’d give to grow wild and untouched
Yet my branches and roots have shrunk
For the little banyan tree I have become.
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 4:54 AM UTC
I want to do as I please
To soar like a bird, wild and free.
I want to rid me my mask
To show my face at long last.
Yet I fear spreading my wings
To let the breeze kiss my skin.
I feel doubt crawl over me
Creeping like vines of poison ivy.
What if my wings don't spread?
What if they're just arms instead?
What if my mask hides not a face?
What if it's all just empty space?
What if I don't find malleable clay?
What if it's stone, all in decay?
Oct 22, 2023
Oct 22, 2023 at 3:22 AM UTC
I bought myself a tiara,
Along with a pair of shoes.
I twirl in front of my mirror,
My soles clear of dirt and dew.
But my eyes see a beautiful princess,
Ready to be swept off her feet,
To live a life of adventure,
To sing and do as she please,
To not be a normal woman,
But a Disney princess and beloved queen.
I put the tiara down, and step back,
Into mundane days of assignments,
Into grueling nights of deadlines,
Forgetting the hours spent,
Flipping through books of stories,
Flipping through Instagram stories,
Memorizing every line on every page,
Every line on every face.
Scrolling, thinking, worrying,
Laying on my bed, stowed away
In the deepest part, the highest tower,
Living under the watchful eyes of my mother,
My life forever gaslit by my father.
As they warn me of the many dangers,
My fire-breathing aunts and uncles,
I can only ever wonder,
When will my life begin?
Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 2:53 PM UTC
Like the cardigan in the trunk,
They claw for my warmth
When frost bites their skin.
But when the scent of spring,
And the scent of a rose
Grazes their cold nose,
They cast aside my thread,
The cardigan under the bed,
Only remembered when,
Everyone is cold again.
Jan 17, 2023
Jan 17, 2023 at 4:18 AM UTC
A little blue balloon
Floated blissfully across the sky
Above mango trees, along with birds
In the humid air of July.
Floating high above, it barely saw
The little specks of ants below, crawling about.
Insignificant and a hindrance
Like ink on waste paper, blotted out
Feeling important, it spent its days
Until a realization brought it to a lower rung.
It floated higher, not because it was an ace,
But as its insides were lighter than the air around
One day, a red balloon came along.
Like the moon in a night sky
Brought all eyes to it
And admiration in all minds
The blue balloon realised it was invisible
To everyone against the blue.
Unimportant and worthless
A balloon no one cared about or knew.
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 5:06 AM UTC