Dumbledore

Dumbledore, Bumbledore
Dumbledore, Bumbledore,
Why does that make me laugh?
Laughter—the lightest of all cures,
A balm that eases every ache,
With just a smile, it takes your worries
And tosses them away.

They say it takes 93 muscles to laugh,
But she is the simplest joy,
Easier than any medicine
And richer than any gold.

Dumbledore, Bumbledore,
Why is that so funny?
You can have teeth like a crooked fence,
But laughter—deep from the chest—
Erases all your doubts and fears.

It bridges gaps, erases lines
Between every background, shade, or height.

Dumbledore, Bumbledore,
Is it the sound that makes us laugh?

Have you ever heard a baby laugh?
How it softens the hardest hearts,
Their giggles floating like bubbles in the air,
So pure, so free, so light.

Laughter makes the world stand still,
And turns your problems into whispers.

Dumbledore, Bumbledore,
Why is that so funny?

Even animals laugh, they say,
So why don’t you give it a try?
Smile first, let the laughter follow—
It’s the cheapest joy,
The brightest glow.

Dumbledore, Bumbledore,
Bumbledore, Dumbledore—
Why do we keep laughing?

Lonely

How loneliness became my companion,
Loneliness, my friend with whom I share my thoughts and problems.
Yet she never answers back or offers opinions.

I find her silence and impartiality soothing sometimes,
A quiet presence, still and unseen, like a watchful spy.
Loneliness, my everyday sidekick,

Often I’m asked how I can stay alone so long.
But they don’t know how beneficial you are,
Always present, teaching me self-worth,
How to know myself and trust my feelings.

Our relationship is often misunderstood.
“Go outside, make friends,” they say,
“Life is passing you by.”
I give in to their pressure sometimes,
But the fit is never right from the outside perspective.

So I return to you,
Are they right? I don’t know.
But sitting here silently can be tough.
When my mouth never opens, and when it does, it feels foreign.

I feel judged, out of place, and misunderstood.
I hide from the crowd, seeking solitude,
Because my love language is physical touch,
And how can I go so long without it?

I search for connection, for a friend with sound, trust, and understanding.
But where to start? You never guide me,
You leave me to act alone,

Learning and unlearning, standing at my threshold,
Hoping to find a friend like you, yet different—
Someone with a sound heart.

Inside, it’s lonely, but don’t be mistaken,
I strive, embrace, and cherish my loneliness.

Anger

I’m so angry that words stutter
In my mouth; I’m seething at everything.
Is this what fate has in store for me?
Hunger, brokenness, lifelessness, purposelessness—
Is this my life? I’m consumed with rage.

My anger could varnish cities,
Yet I have no one to blame,
Not God, not the Universe.
Where are you, hidden under rocks,
Deep in oceans, among the stars?
Are you teaching me a lesson?

Universe, I’m bedridden,
Life is slipping by.
My manifestations, my pleas—
Are they unheard?
God, can you hear me?
I need a new path,
This one leads to futility.

Did I fail the race called life?
My road is dark, directionless,
No one in sight.

God, Universe, can you hear me?
I heard that the universe is indifferent,
But I need your help—
It’s cold, dark, and lonely here.

I’m scared, a child in the void.
Is this the end? Poverty, weakness, loneliness?
I look at the fading stars,
My hands searching for a path home.

Is this my fate?
I thought about my tombstone,
What would it say?
“In loving memory of daughter and sister,”
But who will come?
Who will call?
I laughed, is this my fate?

I’m angry because you blessed me
With a restless mind, hopeful yet unfulfilled.
It dreams of oceans, mountains, and fields,
But when I open my eyes, it lies.

God and Universe, this might be my last cry,
I’m fading, a ghost in the dark.
Bring back my color, my spirit.
Is this all that’s left for me?

Alive

Alive. But what is the point
When you seem to be running in circles,
Chasing yourself in endless loops.

Alive, but why, when life seems to conspire against you?
Alive, why, when you gaze outside but never in?
Alive, why, when you stand alone by your window?

Why is your window so different from others’?
Is that why you’re alone?
Looking in, looking out, I see a stark contrast—

My window unshuttered, while theirs are locked tight.
I’ve been standing here for what feels like 200 years,
And my window remains untouched, unfulfilled.

Why me? Did I descend from galaxies
Just to falter in life?
Why does my key refuse to turn?

I question existence day and night,
It’s a burden, a headache,
As life and its end creep closer.

Yet I push through each day, each month,
I refuse to quit, though it’s not easy.
Alive, but why? What’s the point?

My window remains locked,
Bringing forth insecurities,
Anger, hate, and resentment—

Not towards life, but my own journey.
I wake up just to stare at the wall,
Lost in my thoughts, day and night.

As a firstborn, I’m meant to lead and achieve,
Failure is not an option, or so I was taught.

But here I am, merely a spectator,
Clapping at graduations,
My applause now feels hollow, immune.

Looking around, I see the questions in parents’ eyes,
“When will it be your turn?”
I wish I knew,
So I could give them something to discuss,
Something to be proud of.
I woke up and showered this morning,
Being struggling for a decade,
And I’m alive.

Maybe, just maybe,
My window has finally opened a sliver of possibility.