Yes, revenge is sweet and the beauty of karma matches your face.
However, why would I get even with someone
who wasn’t on my level in the first place?
I really mean it in the worst way.
I’ve held the damage in for a while but now I’ll say
everything without regret because you made me feel this way.
I forget your name on purpose every time that I pray.
You caused cascading waves to flow down my face
after you entered the fray. My sweet wishes were slain
by your scorpion-like sting as you turned out to be a snake.

I see your weak speech filled with might and probably.
I thought I was safe, yet you didn’t even fret to try me
and I trusted that you were behind me.
So it’s shocking when I’m falling,
to see your arms not trying to stop me
when you’re so used to catching bodies.

The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

Never stop showing who you are.
Fear is what drives us, keeps us alive.
Emotions are our eternal star.

Sadness is something you should never keep too far,
understanding loss helps us strive;
never stop showing who you are.

Let the flames of your anger cause char.
Rage is human and should not be deprived,
emotions are our eternal star.

Desire to be greater in spite of scars,
lust for love and lust for life,
never stop showing who you are.

Joy is amazing and cleanses tar,
if your happiness dies, then it should be revived.
Emotions are our eternal star.

Do not let your emotions become your czar,
however, be true to yourself and try to thrive.
Never stop showing who you are;
emotions are our eternal star.

Does a black man’s life have a price?
Hopefully, you answer with of course not.
It is priceless. No sum of anything
can equal its worth. But some others say
of course not. The ones that seek to destroy
us, break us to the core, think that we have
no worth. Nothing to our names but
defamation and inflammation from
miserably myopic minds. We die so easily
to hate, to jealousy, to misunderstanding.

Our price is lower than zero when the cost
of freedom is so high. But not for us;
the cost is freedom for them. They need
to be free from jealousy and hate,
but they just can’t see how easy it can be
to be loving. No, the cost of a Noir Nature
is far too high. It burdens us with the pain
of our broken ancestry. It burdens them with
the fear of changing scenery.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

We have no heroes; we are only zeros. No,
not even zeros because at least a zero has a place.
We don’t fit in, from elderly to infants, we simply
strain through sorrow for something bittersweet.
And it hurts with a biting sting of failure,
but not of our own. No, it is the failure
of ignorance and broken hearts.
There’s no one to truly hope or pray for us
as we are slowly strangled by those that seek
to destroy and break us to the core.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

Where’s our true freedom?
We were once slaves to cruelty,
then we were set “free”. Free to toil under
the misery and apathy of a blinded, divided land.
We then struggled, clawed, begged just be
the same under the law, and through it all,
nothing has really changed.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

But where’s our true freedom?
We still are set as windchimes in the streets,
we still are cast as fish amongst the seas,
we still are set ablaze from head to feet.
Why can’t we be truly free?
Why do they continue to ever so mistreat
us with sourceless anger? Why are we beat
and pleated into a lack of love that fleets
and flees with the fury of fleas? We ask, please,
to be seen, to freeze the agony, to show us mercy,
but they bleat like sheep, guaranteeing to **** our liberty
with glee as they continue to freeze us as they please.
They screech and decree as ugly as beastly banshees
when all we wanted was peaceful equality.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

I’m enslaved although I’m brave.
Pressures force my mind to cave,
in spite of my cravings to save
my slaving eyes from a shallow grave.

Bravery lies in the ability to not lie,
or deny reality, but to unshyly cry
in day or night. My eyes are bright lights as I
look to the sky and try to not die inside.
To be higher is to not look at danger and shy
from the fear of a freedomless failure. Braveness
is greatness; a courageous showing of patience.

It is the face of the heart’s race and pace
that is traced from a loving embrace of grace.
It is not famous or faithless, it is the safeness
to continue to another day. It is to sway, to stray,
to waver towards the unpaved way without fray.  
It is to walk on water no matter the weight, to say
that although we may be enslaved, we are brave.