What can you create
That which wouldn't be destroyed
Hearts age
And stones wither.
There's yearning for immortalisation
But nothing on earth
That would last.

I tend to make stories
Out of everything,
Passing glances
From a pair of eyes
Across cars
While standing at the toll.
The crook of a neck
Bent to search
A fallen coin
At the store line
Among impatient taps
Of feet.
Across the sunset
And about the light that travels
Millions of miles
Just to land on
Your hands
Shielding your eyes
From the glare.
Of pain and happiness
I weave stories
Despite meeting none
Satisfactorily.
I wish to add
Vivid words
To match
The vivid lines
In your palms.
I nod at songs
Written ages ago
In sync with another century
Rather than my own.
I don't want to speak
And break this pregnant silence.
So I'll just look into
Those soulful eyes
And craft tales
To satisfy
My need
To romanticise.

Tell me how much privacy you really have.

Because, making your account private, deleting your PFP, and restricting or blocking unwanted accounts don't seem to stop the creeps.

Sometimes, I feel violated because of certain comments. And the thing is, I haven't asked anyone to text me nor have I made any advances. I'm here to post poetry, write from my heart and maybe put it out there for you to read, if you'd want to.

That's all. Nothing that would warrant unnecessary DMs.

This hapenned to my cousin. Well, almost to every girl/ woman I know.

Maybe it's our fault posting? Or maybe we shouldn't even have social media accounts.

But my mom had calls to her private number. Tell me, how does one find it? How do s one get rid of these roaches?

I know there's no fault of mine. But I can't help but feel there is some part here.

Maybe being closed off and cold might help, I wonder. It doesn't.

Then what will?

If I were to
Spew a poem
From the depths of my mind
Within seconds
I'm afraid of the words
Lurking beneath the surface
Those which I've managed to lock
Would pounce
Upon the first chance of release.
Maybe that's why
I write about them
Rather than what they are.
And so, I ask,
To be or not to be:
A walking contradiction.

Wax melts
Heated and moulded
To a shape
Of your desire
Only to dissolve
Under heat.

Find me,
A bumblebee,
Made not for flight,
Soar.

What if this story
Of ours goes down in history
As a change of times
For once
The love of self
Triumphs fairytales.

I wish
You wrote me letters
Under the moonlight
And signed with a couplet
And petals of rose
Dried and pressed
Between the pages of your favourite book
And an endearment
To call me by
A secret
Ours alone.

Smile as though
The splendour
Of the moon
Is your competition.

To write
Or to not.
A melody unsung
Still resides,
Where it should,
In a pocket
Of my soul.

I'm the future
Of my past
And the past
To my future
And neatly wrapped
In the present.

You're the air around me,
And here I am,
Gasping.

A ****** of crows,
A conspiracy of ravens.
Ended up painting maliciousness
On creatures mute.

So we lied
To ourselves
All along,
The impostors
In our lives.

The
Purpose of
Everything that is
Seems fragile compared to
You.

How easy would it be
To change things
To your will
And make things alright-
Yet these easiest things
Are rarely attained.

Is it worth it
Growing tall
Only to be felled?

Would you still beleive
If I told you of a time
Where we could still talk
Without being stabbed
In the heart
With surprise
At how much love
We could give
At how much we could bend
Without breaking?

Torn between worries
Of an uncertain future
And past regrets
Chaos reigning
And a fear of the present
Taunting, tantalising
Away my mind from what's present
And so I create
Murals to
Make sense of my world.

In that pond
Which housed
A thousand fishes
Of gold
And a single
One as dark
As the depthless seas
I went to fish.
Eyes fixed
After the prize
Of one unique.
And in the try
To bag the gold
(Here, the boa)
I let go
Of a hundred
Actual gold.

//I chased after a single utopian idea, a goal, and never appreciated the other opportunities that were given. //

When the days turn longer
And nights unbearably short
In the middle of winter, even,
And slogging weights
Pull down the neck
Threatening to choke
Given one second
To pull back and breathe,
Then the limit of
A thousand beings
Is surpassed to something beyond
Aspirations and goals,
Something beyond a dutiful soul
To a being
Living life
To make it
What it should be;
Great.

In all my imperfections
Let me be your favourite monster
The poison served
In a silver platter
The bleeding eye akin
To the brain most consider not
There's the crack next to yours
That this snake can slither in
Found under ozymandias's head
In a nowhere land
Where lie none
So take my word.

Inadvertently chasing dreams
Failing plans
To lead the way.

I wait with my eyes
Open to slits
Like the Cresent outside
For the minute the doors are closed
And the lights shut off
Finally bathing me in darkness
And invite my old friend in
And cry with him for hours
Beside me
While he whispers
" Nobody loves you"
And
"You're ugly"
So I make myself much more
Puffy eyes
And dead cheeks
Waiting yet again
For that reunion
Day after day
Alone in my bubble
Of hate and pain
And feel at home.

"Be a better person," you said
"Get out of it"
Don't you see I can't?
"This is all your fault"
"The demons you've made up
Don't even exist!"
But you've not met them.
"You have everything you'll ever need,
Everything you want"
Then why do you smile
At my helplessness?
"You've changed!"
" I don't like you anymore"
So to suit you,
I've improved my ways
There are better things
Better methods to cause pain
Apart from that knife you took away
And that blade
And that clip
And that scissor
Without evidence
Without scars
" It's all in your brain"
Rotting from within
You're right.
Bit by bit by bit
Until all of me is consumed
Bit by bit by bit
Until it's too late.

They wrote each other little notes all day long
It was their life line, it got them through the day strong
They wrote all the random things that they could possibly think
But the notes seemed short cause they read it in a blink
From chronicles of peaches and jelly
To the things that shouldn't even be silly
Some were really deep and meaningful Some were just so stupid that they became beautiful
Raiding each other's rough notes or diary was a daily thing that they did
These notes were their greatest treasure, to find these, to the ends of the earth you must dig
This whole thing is just something really simple but to them it was beyond special
It was like their little drug of happiness that occasionally made them mental
Not realizing how time got away quickly they now just read back the little notes they wrote to each other
Maybe the universe would be kind enough to let them write these once again as life moves further.

There are times when things don't go the way you want them to. There are times when things happen exactly as you wanted them to, but they didn't turn out that great. And there are those rare wonderful days, the ones you try so hard to never let go.
I've maybe said this a lot but with each person comes a different perspective. Hell, it might not suit you, might get you into misunderstandings and fights and the like, but when you're ready to hear and understand, maybe the other side too had a few patches of rot among the green grass.
I come attached with all my flaws and insecurities, those that make me toss and turn in my sleep when I most needed it, those that made me sleep for years on end, deceiving myself. But just as a smudge on an intricate painting, maybe we can hide our mistakes too. Or, show them to the world with so much pride and confidence, that your scars no longer define you, but your being does.
These few years have taught me many things. Yes, I have way too much to learn, too many things left to experience, but I am who I am because of the people around me.
But I don't imply everyone you meet turns out hiding a knife behind their backs to stab you in yours, but they're all lessons.
As in a book, you have chapters, and though you might want some to stretch on until forever, though you may want some things torn off of the book, and a few more even buried deep beneath the brown or burnt until unrecognisable, what happens has to happen, and trust me, things might just turn out to be pretty great for you. Watch, listen and learn from the things around you.
There are lessons and there are fairytale endings, there are chapters long and short, and there are too many genres than you can count. Here's what I have learnt, and here's what I have to say. To you, reading this, things will be okay. I'm here for you.
And so are these very lessons, to mould you into the beautiful being that you are, no matter the blemishes.
Maybe this story, these events do not completely belong to me. They're every bit yours, and may everything turn into an adventure!
So here I am, to bare my soul, and narrate the story of hurt, hope and healing <3

I will wait
For you to scramble
And dig around
The shallow stream
Of your being
And tell you
One last time
To maybe, wait,
Take a minute
To soak up that water
And grow into the
Majestic mighty
You were meant to
And, maybe realise
To look beyond
The vision
That your eyes
Can offer
Into mine
The fingerprints etched
Over my soul.

With nothing but hands
To hold each other strong
Against a havoc
Wind of life
The grip slipping
Only to tighten back again
A promise
In the heart
We are miles apart
And miles within
Together in an unbreakable way
Fabled words
Hold no meaning
Against an unspoken message
Of a bond
Etched in gold
The simplest worn thread
Holding itself upright
As we do
Against the howling phantoms
Of the past
And of the future
We brace ourselves
Together
And we set out
To beat fate.

Unprompted lies
They hide a face
That lies beneath
A marked crusade
Porcelain dolls
With plastic smiles
Taught to be the person
That the man dictates.
Taught to talk
A rose in bloom
Rotting from the inside
From soul's disuse.
Taught to hide
To portray
The painting
Stripped of its depth
Diluted
By turpentine
Made to stink
(Cross that last;
her opinions don't matter)
A perfume
To suit the possessor
To enhance his theme.
Late at night though
When he's asleep
With another,
She writes
He could silence her mouth
But never her words.

Under "it's okay" and "everything will be alright
I'm swallowed up
Giving false hopes
And motivations
That they drone on and on
The machine
Slowly corroding
Under an influence of dripping Maws
Of the unselfish mob
Imposing their rules-
It's anyways unite and rule, right?-
There's nothing left
But empty words
Labeled positive motivation
To make the cliché sound much more worse
False accusations aside
It festers within
Crushing out the zeal
To stick to your integrity
And speak
For the faceless masses
Telling them that they will be alright
If they could follow
All the rules set up
An example for the ideal human
And please the crowd.

Today
when I was standing under the sun
to get on a bus
that would take me to my
tuition centre,
I saw a pigeon
with a broken leg
across the road
trying to cross it.
All of a sudden
an old man stopped
his vehicle to watch the pigeon.
The pigeon, in its attempt,
almost got crushed
under a bike's wheel.
This man gets down
from his vehicle and
tries to catch the pigeon.
It flies away from him,
painstakingly;
it would be better off on its own.
The man refused to give up.
He crossed the road along with it,
cooed to calm the pigeon down,
and lifted it tenderly
with both his arms
and took it home,
to care for it.
Maybe there's humanity still left,
in small acts of kindness,
but I don't think
this pigeon will be
remembered by anyone.

A few days back,
when I could at last take a breath
away from my rigorous schedule,
Amma told me a story.
It wasn't something she usually says,
concerning studies or achieving great things,
or getting into a good college.
She said,
"There is a man,
who lives pretty close
to your paati's house.
While he was going to work,
he saw a crow's chick
fallen below a tree;
fallen from it's nest
just after hatching.
This man,
trying to rescue that poor thing,
took it home and nursed it.
Unfortunately the chick
died after a day or two.
Now,
everytime he gets out of his house,
all the crows in the locality
surround him
and try to peck his brains out,
because they probably think
he killed their chick.
Even people
who want to do good
to others are mistaken nowadays.
Maybe it would have been better for him
to leave the chick to die
under the tree itself;
he wouldn't have to be scared
to get out of the house then."
Listening to this,
I thought maybe
humanity has become so corrupted,
that they've lost the trust
of even animals.

It lay like new
Incongruous among the garbage
A streak of the brightest pink
In the middle of rotting masses
A bear
Dearly gifted
Yet thrown away
Within meagre minutes
In the journey
Maybe a fight broke out
On a jealous agony
And hurled that inanimate animal
Into the worst place they could find
Maybe it was a quarrel
Or maybe it was just too heavy to carry
Or a secret to be hidden
From even the closest of family
A gift of forbidden love
Even maybe
A child's error
Snatched away from its hands
The giant of a mound
I can only guess
Yet it lay so
Barren
Unwanted
Even while brand new.

You know you'll just be okay
When you work
Till your while being
Shivers with exhaustion
And your eyes cloud
With salty perspiration
And you push yourself
For that one last lap
And keep pushing
Till another- and yet another
I know
You won't fall.
The places where you tripped
Is your terrain now.
With all these lessons
You've learned in your way
You know
That you'll just be okay.

An irony of people
Pushing forth, unseeing
Past me,
Past my worth
And I just stood there,
Static, unmoving,
An anchor
To those passing by
Stamped
Under their ugly shoes.

Maybe we just need something to lean over,
Something to support us.
With loathing contempt,
The needy gravitate towards each other,
All the while
Wanting to be
The kings of their realm.

Tiny bubbles of soap
Held fragile
by the molecules
of my existence
In moist, soapy
Fingers shielding
Against a gentle
Breeze that might
Disrupt the perfect
Harmony of atoms
Vibrations, of an
Intangible soul
Protected- to perversely
Selfish reasons- for
Who will shelter my heart
If not myself?

I was the painting you tore down
Even before you started.

Billions of people
All over the world
Are knee deep in fear
It is but the tragedy of death
That threatens to keep
The closest near.
This worldwide pandemic
Not only a punishment,
But a time for self reflection
On all that we have done:
All the bruises we have caused
All the tears we cried.
And as nature slowly heals herself
Amidst humans
Keeping their tails in check,
Sparrow song trills once again
And swans find their home,
And as rare as the golden birds.
The human mayflies
Take in a moment and
Search themselves
Clean themselves
And stay still
For once in their lives
Waiting, watching, listening,
Growing closer hour by hour-
That all those decades running
Couldn't provide,
And retort
Back to being human again.
As nature heals her
Cuts and wounds
We, her children,
Are too birthed anew.

I was afraid
To let go
Of the solace of thorns
Let the
Temptation
Of soft flowers
Pierce me.

As the sun went down
The rays by her solitary window,
A tear did too
Down her cheeks,
Her body felt numb,
The heart made no sound;
The castle of her hopes
Burned to the ground.
Consumed by a void
Engulfing her soul,
The burnt down heart
Let out the only glow,
Gathering the ashes
Of the long lost heart,
She mourned her soul
Now torn apart
The reason, she claims
Was a trust misplaced
With all her woes and shattered dreams
The tearstained pearl was what she reaped

She looked out the window
Now ready to fight,
She'll build a new castle
From the ashes inside.
The eyes that glistened
Now burnt fierce,
She would go down and fight
Against all her fears,
Her heart was broken,
But not her will
The pain was intense
Enough to ****
Yet her oath, was to heal
Lighting the world
With her fiery glow, tamed,
As soft as a mother's embrace
She'd tame her demons,
The healing would take time,
The days will be better
And the sun again will shine.

It will be so long
Until you find my poem, there,
Where simmers my hope.
When you unearth this song
I hope you're still strong
As a slender willow
Bending with the storms.
All I know
Is that we'll get through this somehow.
This desolate world just seems stray,
And I've turned lonely and sore.
There are rainbows in the horizon
Yet none out to enjoy.
And just like that,
You seem so far away;
I can't wait anymore.
We've conjured up walls now
Not only those built within.
And those days I'll spend again
With you
A future farther than evermore.
I miss those times
You were with me
The times we could breathe,
Close to me, right here,
In my arms;
Now your pictures are all I can see
Of a murky, distant past
Tinged with the intoxication of freedom
Of roaming the ends of the world
With you.
And I wish, if only,
If I could conjure up by my charms.
This letter unearthed,
An eternity later,
Are you still the same? Am I?
But all I'm sure of, all I can say,
We'll get through this together.
I'm glad you're a part of me
The butter to my knife;
When the chances seemed gray
And faith went astray
And you're, so, so away,
I know you're right by me
And I'm sure to stay.