Just how frail is one's ego–
to feel the need to fuel it by inflicting pain on their own kin?
Does it give you a thrill,
Or a fleeting sense of power–
Of being in control?
What gives you the right?
Who said that was the right?
Surely no one is entitled,
By a measly excuse of gender.
Surely not the tight knot of relation,
Nor the heights you rule from,
Nor the authority you dance on,
Nor the legacy you thrive in.
What happened to your emotionally stable self?
Or is rage no longer an emotion?–
One that certainly isn't stable.
What about the protector you claim to be?–
Providing momentary hope and endless misery,
Feeding maggots and promises you're never going to keep.
Did the mask fall off?
Is the facade not enticing anymore?
Did the greed grow fangs?
Is the weeping vessel not appetizing anymore?
Did hunger's ground shatter?
Did it drag morals into the depths of hell?
What is it that you covet?– the skies?
By wiping out its footing?
How much of humanity would you pile up to reach it?
What amount of sanity are you willing to trade ?
How far would you stretch this atrocity?
Climb how high you can,
Fill the hallucinations to your heart's content,
Revel in your glory while it's still green,
Chase the invisible till you perish,
For the end is not so far if not near,
It is too clear from down here.
~pooja
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 10:17 PM UTC
I am the prey–
Made of red and dirt,
Always in a fight or flight.
I create life–
My red is their ink,
Marking a thousand sins,
Making the sin their fuel.
I am the prey–
Cornered at sight,
The white hiding behind the clouds,
While the living turn to their hideouts,
The purple shadows–
Still haunting the nights.
Watched helplessly, by my fellow prey –
For they too will be me the very next day.
I am the prey–
I raise my own destruction,
I run from my own creation,
They question every breath I take,
Get judged for every step I take,
Blamed for every route I take,
Hunted down in every form I exist,
Then get on the headlines–
Later pretend it never happened.
Shhh.....it never happened.
Don't lie, it never happened.
I raise and I run,
Should I flee or fight,
Maybe I should fly to the heights.
What's the point? In the end–
They will break my arms and drag me to the ground,
Maybe six feet under or worse–into a living hell.
It's the way I walk,
the way I sit,
the way I dress,
And the way I breathe,
Everybody knows it's not the cause–
But let's just pretend I'm at fault.
Because I am the prey,
I was born for them–
Not for myself.
I created life,
I'm atoning for the sin.
I am the prey–
Made of red and dirt,
Always in a fight or flight.
~pooja
Dec 13, 2025
Dec 13, 2025 at 9:08 AM UTC
I'm the shade that never reached your eyes,
The shade which stilled at your sight,
The shade still yearning for your light.
I'm the side that never caught your eye,
Always behind, never by your side – just one side.
You're the shine behind my eyes,
The reason behind my smile,
Even the pink hue of my shy,
You're my star, my Saturn and my entire sky,
I'm the shade that was never by your side.
I could maybe live in your light –
But my roots thrive in my shade.
I could grow wings and fly to your side –
But my roots hold me tight to even try.
Would it be selfish to wish for a day,
A day I'm no longer a shade,
A day by your side,
Not bound to the ground –
Just me and my Saturn,
Where it's not just one-sided.
~pooja
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 10:35 AM UTC
I looked for you everywhere,
Even the cradle I swear was there.
I looked for you low and high,
Did you grow wings and fly so high?
Everything about you felt so real–
Your tiny hands, the bubbly laughter,
Drowsy eyes and slow breathing.
Were you even real?
Real?....
The way you smiled,
The warmth you spread,
The games we played,
The fairy tales we read,
The lullaby we heard,
And the dream we spent,
Was it even real?
Should've kept you closer,
Should've held you tighter,
Should've known, was too good to be real.
Should've never woke up –
To the real.
Do I mourn the lie,
Or wait for the real?
If I never woke up–
Would you have been real?
~pooja
Nov 22, 2025
Nov 22, 2025 at 9:48 AM UTC
If you're by my side, night feels like light –
A festival night with candle lights,
The middle of the lake in pale moonlight,
Floating in between feels just right.
Without you, my morning loses its bright –
A grey sky with no sun in sight.
With you, I hide no tears,
Neither the scars I bear,
Nor the wish I hold so dear.
Without you, I'm no longer here.
If you're by my side, my winters are not cold,
My summers are not too warm,
My skies are more clear.
Without you, my spring loses its colour –
A green garden with not a flower.
With you, I fear no knight,
The shadows behind the light,
The quiet of the night, and
The whispers of that quiet.
Without you, I'm but a lie.
~pooja
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 8:40 AM UTC
Not quite sure when it began–
Maybe between the glances I used to steal,
Or in the silent wish I hoped would come true,
Maybe because of shared interests,
Or when our contacts were exchanged,
Maybe through the request sent,
Or the day a text was shared,
But I'm quite sure, I'm glad it did.
Not quite sure when it grew–
Maybe the day we shared a part of ourselves,
Or the similarities we found in us,
Maybe when silence felt comforting,
Or the presence that felt assuring,
Maybe the moment flirting turned to deep talks,
Or the conversations that went for hours,
Maybe through the matching profiles pictures,
Or the "mentioned you in their story" notification,
Maybe when I turned to your secret diary,
Or the day I went from your half to yours,
Maybe between the promises to wait for eternity
Just so it meant we could meet one day,
But I'm quite sure I liked all of it.
Not quite sure where this will take us to,
But I'm quite sure, with you I will like that too.
~pooja
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 12:30 PM UTC
Where I sat with an anxious heart,
There I heard a voice with a hint of fright.
She is someone with a caring soul,
I am the one admiring that fool.
While I always waited for her,
She made sure to comeback with more.
First one that liked my voice,
Will always be chameli of my eyes.
Once just some new classmates,
Now, look! Two bubbling friends
–Oh! Sorry, soulmates.
Went from waiting hours to meet everyday,
To waiting to meet an hour for days.
I may not be so great at this,
But trust me it comes from a feeling so deep.
Never have I thought we'd come this far,
But here I am writing this letter for her.
~pooja
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 11:40 AM UTC
I was too young to understand—
The mourning crowd and her peaceful slumber,
The sorrow eyes and silent cries,
They took her somewhere,
And she never returned.
I was too young to understand—
The warning gaze and melting eyes,
The piercing tone and sweet words,
The sharp hands and soothing ice,
The silent depart and longing wait,
It all vanished before I could grasp.
I was too young to understand—
The hushed conversations,
The vile recoil and sudden hatred,
The repulsive touch and etched memory,
The feigning actions and that game we never played again,
The fading warmth and creeping censure,
The bad dream and reality,
They went quite before I could ask.
They said I was too young to understand—
So I stopped wondering,
Too young, I stopped questioning.
Too young, I stopped offering.
Too young, I stopped caring.
Too young, I stopped expressing.
I was too young to understand—
But am I still too young to be understood?
~pooja
Nov 7, 2025
Nov 7, 2025 at 10:14 AM UTC
I hate rain,
Not for its occurrence,
But the traces it leaves behind–
It visits with an earthy fragrance,
Breathes out a pungent air.
Engulfs with familiar presence,
Lingers as cold second skin.
Showers with gentle kisses,
Then sheds dripping needles.
I hate rain,
Not for its presence,
But the state it finds me in–
Away from home,
Alone at night,
Vulnerable in the road,
No one to share an umbrella,
No shelter in sight.
I hate rain,
Not for its splatters,
But the stains–
Mud smudged on clothes,
Fear spilled on skin,
Anxiety's shadow on heart,
Light bleeding off eyes,
Thoughts whispered in ears,
Regret lurking in mind,
Disgust smeared in stomach.
I hate rain,
Not for its mess,
But the things it takes with it–
Radiance of the livelihood,
Comfort of an anchor,
Wings of the flying,
Roam of the untamed,
Innocence of the offsprings,
Warmth of the loved ones.
I hate rain,
Not for its existence,
But–
The aftermath,
The scenes it etches in memories,
The things it makes me feel,
The state it leaves me in.
I hate rain,
But never the rain.
~pooja
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 7:34 AM UTC
My world is red and dark,
His was white and bright.
Mine is cold and distant,
His was warm and cozy.
Mine is full of wars and crimes,
His was full of rainbows and sunshine.
I travel in snowy storms,
He sleeps in a flower bed.
Until he stumbled into my world
Until he met me– no,
Until I found him.
I took him in, let him stay,
In a place he called home.
What did I do?–
He wished to fly, I stripped him.
He wanted to step out, I locked him.
He talked too much, I muffled him.
He wanted to be free, I set him free.
What drove me to do it?–
I don't know,
I was just too tired,
I wanted to end it.
How did I do it?–
I told him they left him,
That they don't care.
I filled his mouth with silence.
But, it wasn't enough–
I threw curses, met with walls.
I threw glares, met with air.
I threw punches, met myself in the mirror.
He smiled still– I couldn't anymore.
I threw a knife, didn't miss this time.
It slid through his heart,
Slow and devastating.
What did it give me?–
Questions I can't answer.
I had enough.
I left him bleeding,
To see light leave his eyes.
They stared back at me
As if mocking me. Before,
Hiding behind the eyelids. But,
Why?
I took his soul out–
Why do I feel empty?
Why is my skin blue?
Why am I infront of a mirror?
Why is it cracked?
Why is my body numb?
Why do I smell like metal?
Where is that kid?
Only then have I realised,
There's no such kid.
Then who did I **** just now?
What does it make me?–
He's just a kid,
But I? What am I?
A criminal? A killer? A monster?
A result of my ignorance or the society?
How do you feel?– the kid asked from mirror.
I just destroyed a precious part of myself,
How do "YOU" think I feel?
He just vanished–
Leaving the silence behind.
~pooja
Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 3:23 AM UTC