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  Apr 2018 Lex
Grand Piano
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
  Apr 2018 Lex
Keerthi Kishor
When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.

When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.

When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.

When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.
"Pistanthrophobia is just not everyone's cup of tea."
Lex Apr 2018
Her skin is not quite ivory but not hazelnut either. More like a dark beige.
Her freckles dance around her body. One not too far away from another.
Her hair is bipolar. Never being the same color for too long.
Her eyes aren't Dazzling Blue. More like a
Brave Brown
Lex Apr 2018
I'm 16. I'm at home more than school. Crying more than I'm not. Depressed more than happy. I'm stressed more than relaxed. But I'm not the only one like this. Hell, it gets way worse than me. But we're only 16...
Lex Mar 2018
Can we go back to those summer nights?
Where we all stayed out until the crack of dawn.
Where I stayed at home instead.
Go back to all the drinking and smoking.
The "That's bad for you, ya know?"
Yeah, I know.
But what else is there to do?
With the consistent blabbering in my head.
Of all the things I did wrong that day.
Why wouldn't I want to erase that memory?
The constant crying.
Over everything.
Better yet...let's not go back to those summer nights.
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