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Indra L 17h
My root country hits number 1 in poverty
My adopted land feeds on misogyny
I worry -
Will anyone fancy me?

Emitting excessive carbon dioxide
We overhear yet choose to hide
Can’t utter the word genocide.

I’m terrified.
Never mind the political divide -
I'm just spiralling, my job's rather boring,
Public speaking is frightening.

Also, the US’s worryingly embarrassing
Ukraine can’t seem to win and Yemen’s endlessly starving
It’s wildly concerning -
The acne growing on my skin.

As for my third country, we defy regularly
the French are praised for protesting
‘Collective dispute for systemic integrity.’

It all sounds empowering -
But I gained 10 kilos and it’s dismorphing.
If only depression made me slim
Indra L 3d
Some claim I’m rather edgy
They look up to my serenity
Idealise my brain capacity -
I’ve even been told I’m pretty

And I won’t make a scene,
  disproportionally adjust to your screen
  ask about you despite me,
I’ll hug you without editing

Oddly lonely for the time being.

       See you in another film -
        Your eyes intimidate me
         You don’t seem to need any
          The script's too good for me.
Indra L Sep 10
I crave it quite urgently
He says endearingly.

Masked in nonchalance,
unjustifiably insolent -
I blast in trance.

A decade later, I fluster.
At the sound of his home keys -
He puts a nose on his smileys.

         Some Lowly to cool,
         Some Shitkid to fuel.

A couple of beers?
He sheds a few tears.
References to two artists:
- Lowly (baglæns)
- Shitkid (highway)
  Aug 31 Indra L
badwords
Stained are teeth, and fingers yellow,
Softly whispered lies we keep.
Smoke unfurls in breath so mellow,
Promising but sinking deep.

Coiling tendrils, soft and clever,
Lull the mind in fleeting grace.
Cinder ghosts that warm, yet sever,
Leave their embers on the face.

Every spark—a pledge unwinding,
Every drag—a weight we bear.
Sworn to comfort, yet confining,
Clinging to a thinning air.
Nicotine is a tightly structured, lyrical poem that explores the tension between fleeting comforts and the greater aspirations we often neglect. Using nicotine as both a literal and metaphorical device, the poem examines the small indulgences we cling to—despite knowing their cost—drawing a parallel to the broader human tendency to accept self-deception for the sake of temporary relief.

Through vivid imagery of smoke, stained fingers, and fading embers, the poem evokes a sense of quiet resignation, underscoring the slow erosion of will beneath a comforting but insidious habit. The rhythmic AB meter reinforces the hypnotic cycle of desire and consequence, mirroring the way these comforts lull us into complacency.

At its core, Nicotine is a confrontation—a mirror held up to our daily rationalizations, asking whether we truly seek change or merely the illusion of control. The introspective tone invites readers to reflect on their own vices, however small, and consider what they may be sacrificing in the name of fleeting ease.
Indra L Aug 31
Sat for dinner, let’s have a meal
I’m gazing left and right,
The goal's to avoid eye contact.

Swallowing,
The taste is alright but I can’t hold a fight.

That masterly skill -
A simmered misery,
Served daily.

Cooking the exact words to belittle
My stomach grows humble.

///

Parents,
I’d like to be brave but I bury
In spite of my age I hurry.
Indra L Aug 5
I’ve internalised invisibility,
Learned to distrust my own adequacy.

Sometime after shedding acquired skin,
I started to scream;

Craving to feel seen eventually gets boring.

Designing for someone else
Wasn’t meant to bend yet felt;
Then I fell.

Into a shroud of contradiction,
Refused to flatten expectations -
Uncontrollably muting conformation.
Indra L Jul 22
Whether from arrogance or negligence, I yawn at their stance
Not a chance I’ll advance.

Science tends to disagree - research believes in therapy
As far as claiming it'd make me happy.

        'Have a 30-minute walk each day',  
She dares to say as I continue to pay.
        'You carry trauma from your childhood'
        'Navigate your thoughts and it’ll affect your mood'.

Sorry doctor, I’m lacking modesty -
I seem unable to take you seriously and seeing you hurts violently.
I could easily earn your degree.

Undoubtedly, people will say:
        'How can she expect to be okay?'
        'She's abusing of her sick leave pay'
        'In no way committed to her healing journey'.

To which I’ll roll my eyes at any day.
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