Summer is coming,
the sun will glare,
heat will radiate,
flip flops will be out,
tans will be tattooed on bare skin,
sunglasses out to shade,
sp lotions to shield,
happiness beaming through the curved-wide smiles,
water will be splashed
and the sand will burn
like hot coals on the soles of the feet
for it will be  beach season once again.

She unrolled the blueprints
that she had designed.
Building from the wreck that was left behind.

She salvaged the rubble and ruins
and cement of broken promises
granulating and churning it to nothing more than sand;
allowing it to form the foundation of her own future.

She raised one naked agony brick after the other,
cementing it with love and care.

Planting seeds of melancholy,
she watered them with her tears
and watched as the sun's warmth let them bloom
and the moon that let them rest.

She weaved curtains
and plastered the ruins.

She became the gardener,
the architect
and the nurse
of her own self and life.

- Beautiful Sensitive Soul

A visitor,
not a resident
once again.

You walk in and out
as though it was a revolving door.
You visit me as though I am a sovoneour shop,
just to see how much one would miss you.

My heart has become exhausted of
the constant switch between the void and the presence.

For you make a vacation out of me,
when I ought to be a sanctuary.
You turn me into a hotel room,
when I ought to be home.

My name was not the one that was to be traced on sand and washed away by the waves
but the one you would engrave with ink on your skin.

I am oxygen
I am water
Not momentary
or unncessary
like the label of the presence of expiry you labeled me with
Or your temporary devotion.

Hope is shrinking
Light is dimming
Walls are caving in
and everything seems to diffusing into blue.

It's all heavy and dark
draining and enveloping.

And all I want to do is put a pause on life
to make everything stop moving on
dragging me along with it
as the abyss is plunging me
in like a dark hole.

You came in my life
with the words “I love you at first sight”
I should’ve known better for you had a hidden bowie knife.
Would you blame me if I believed in fairytales?
For I was so young and naive.

I did not reciprocate those feelings back,
Did you take it to your ego,
and decided to play that game?
or was that your intention all along?
Because you wore me down with kindness and care,
till I was soft and vulnerable.

Weaving your beautiful lies,
you got me to entrust my heart and soul.
Glamouring my vision over the months,
you wore down the walls
and got past the borders and guards.

You decided to take of the mask
and drop the truth like a bomb,
when I was defenseless, weak and unarmed.
For the caring and affectionate person I knew was all a facade
under which laid a deplorable and cynical soul.

Wearing me down till I was unfortified,
was a part of your maneuvering all along.
You reeled me in with care,
just so you can hurt me with a smite.

You broke my vision of what is all good in this world;
where kindness and care isn’t always itself,
but a way to get past the walls.
You made me taste the bitter after taste of those sweet words.
and scarred my innocent soul.

You broke her,
for she no longer sees kindness and care the same,
but fear the ones who show her kindness,
will do the same.

Did your body not warn you
before you were wrung dry?

The day you found yourself depleted,
the nights that lead upto it became fragile,
your cell heavy as they were heaved onto the bed.

Did you not listen to your body,
when you woke up with a heavy chest
and your body begged you to sleep?

Did you not acknowledge your heart
when it had become
a black hole the night before
as it ****** you out in.
Your bones like gravestones
prominent among the barren skin.

Did the suffocating dark matter
not ring louder
as you gasped for air with burnt lungs.

When you stood there overworked,
with signals mixed and sensitive
rewired and tangled
did the response fit their norm of you?

Did your voice not thud,
with the lump in your throat?
Did your heart not pound
against your ribcage,
your stomach not curdle
with that war in your chest,
as your mind raced
and your chest pressured as you tried
to clutch that breath?

Did your hormones
not muddle with your thoughts?
Did they not drown them in depths
and set them on fire all at once?
Did it not ache your muscles
before it all turned red?

Did your body not scream
when they came near?
Your feet cemented,
as your body froze?
Did your gut not twist
till you felt nauseous?

Did your toes not curl
when the feeling sunk
through your spine,
sat in your bones
like an unwanted guest,
and you like an unwilling host?

Did you not feel the chill
shiver down your spine
as terror spread across your face
and painted it white
before the quake came?

Did you not acknowledge
your body is the vessel
that you kept giving and pushing
depleting it of the right to rest
rather than opening
it to the abundance of love
it was surrounded by.

Your body became over extended,
your mind became forgetful
a body that is now a red flag;
travesty.

“Why do you love me?” she said loathing her soft-squeaky voice while she stared at the reflection that lay before her. Saddening with every inch of fat she noticed that left her feeling husky and plumb in comparative to all the other girls in her class that walked around confidently in their curvy and slender body. She stood there trying to **** back her flabby stomach and stoke her jaws with her thumbs harshly so that the underlying fat would just go away.

She ran her fingers along the dark curls of hers twisting them and despising them. Staring abhorrently at her honey-colored face that wasn’t fair as milk and therefore considered not beautiful. Pimples cracked upon her skin, making her despise every intracity of her body.

Her vision blurred as she would see her reflection, tears streaming down her heated pink cheeks as she stood upon the machine which defined her by a number; just like her grades that would define her mind.

“Why do you love me?” It was the question she would ask every person that would walk into her life and say the three words she was never able to tell herself. She wanted to know the details, when and how for the three words would leave her curious as to why they loved her because she never believed there was something likable about her. She never believed she was noticeable because she was invisible. She wanted to know because she was a soul longing to love herself.

We don’t put a label on it
Because we don’t want to fit
And commit.

We keep it fun and chill;
Nothing serious
No consequences
No future
Nothing romantic
Trying to keep it platonic.

Doesn’t it sound ironic?
Because I am frantic
About you, boy.

Trying to be ice cold
Pretending we are something,
when we’re nothing.
I am losing my mind.

You play these games
Trying to make me insecure
About all these other girls.

So I play along
Because it’s love,
Maybe not long lasting
But real.

But we’re just spiraling
No end; not infinite
I guess I can not pretend
For I don’t want to be this type of girl.

I want to us to burn;
Our hearts to yearn
Our souls to learn.

I want attachment,
Security and stability.
I want it to be long lasting
And not a temporary fling

Fear,
you make my body quake
leave cracks in my esteem
and invite doubts
to harbor and fester as you
send a shiver down my spine
to drown my fire.

Fear,
you soak up all the syllables.
that I was to mutter
so I stumble
and stand there mute
with my stomach heavy with nausea.

Fear,
I take guilt bites
as I am lost in panicky howls.
while you lay out procrastination unevenly
and drink from the reservoir of my energy.

Fear,
you trick my potential
wipe out my credential
leave nothing but
raspy and rough remnants for me
to draw from.

Fear,
you rule the beats of my heart
pulling me out at the first hello.
you grip me,
whisper obscurely
whilst darkness grasps my sense
and wraps my dreams with dark matter.

Fear,
with you my my soul
remains parched like the desert,
and my brain wrecked with nervosity
as the sensation spreads across my body.

But Fear,
I want to be one step ahead
of you this time.
I don’t want my fate to collapse
beneath your decisions.

Fear,
I want to spell courage louder
than your stifling whispers
as I embrace opportunities
regardless of how daunting and risky you paint it to be.

Your language is empathy
Your power is vehemence.
You have a searing pursuit of understanding
and the ability arouse curiosity.

Conversing with you is like
naming stars,
creating constellation with them
It is observing the intricacy, profundity and complexity of this world;
Delving deeper into the ocean
and a black hole of unexplored matter
as you paint extravagant pictures with words.

You made me feel heard
the days I was mute
Seen,
the days I was invisible.

Thank you for asking me what I thought,
for making me feel it mattered.
Thank you for reaching out,
when I needed it the most.
Thank you for inspiring me
to be vocal about my thoughts and passions.
Thank you for being an integral
part of the person I am today.
Thank you for brewing the oceanic-galactic tea.

At the age of 10,
I enter a world manipulated by a smooth console
with knobs to weave myself into a different skin
level up with every ****,
and move with a certain skill.
At the age of 12,
I open a world stacked on my shelf.
Some world lying there parched like the desert,
accumulating dust and letting its texture fray away.
Whereas some lie there with their syllables
paving roads to adventure
and intoxicating the air with its tropic odor.
At the age of 14,
I scroll myself into another world;
where vision is pixelated
and lighting is perfect.
Instagram and Snapchat are the societies that exist,
ranking your position with the followers you keep.
Endorphins are the taps you receive
and filters are what you apply before you leave.
At the age of 16,
I pick up the VR goggles
and sleep under lucid rainbows
and a different constellation.
Everything is under my control,
the timezone;
a stimulation that feels so real.
At the age of 18,
I meet people of different hues,
discovering new worlds in them.
With different nations weaved on their skin,
and composition of carbon, nitrogen, spice and sweet ever so different in them.

I drank poison
of hate and resentment tonight.

I wonder whether my eyes
will be tumid tomorrow
of all the tears that were shed
and glow with malevolence
or wouldn't event want to lift an eyelid.

I wonder whether my
tongue will spew the vile remaining
or it wouldn't even utter a word.

I wonder whether my muscles will
fulminate with the energy of hate
or it would be too heavy to get off
bed tomorrow.

I wonder if my mind will be raging
tomorrow or would've drowned and
been dissolved by the venom coursing through me.

I wonder as I slip into sleep.

Mother,
The epitome of love.

A star made of combustion
Of crimson and wild blue.
Her smile like a cresent
shining bright
from an afar Galaxy.

Mother,
Vibrant as sun rays,
And soft like the moonlight.
Tremendous as lightning,
enlightning the dark sky
with a spark.

Mother,
The paintbrush
that paints vibrancy
on the dullest of days.

Mother,
A soul that burns with ferocity,
Whos hands are always busy
scrubbing, moulding, cooking
But her touch always caressing with love.

Mother,
Who's voice can be the ocean
Calming and soothing
Or as loud as the seas
Roaring and crashing in a storm
bursting away personal confinement.

But she rows
Even through the sea of troubles.
Nothing is too heavy
She marches on.

Mother,
Who sacrifices and compromises
To deepen skies
and hand stars to hold.

Mother,
Who's love I cannot comprehend and stomach
For she grows flowers from pain,
Inhaling O2
And Exhaling O3
Transfiguring weeds into garden for us to play.

She is the incarnation of love.

I had to put boundaries
when it came to you
to avoid being myself completely,
because for you I was
too deep
too emotional
too attached.

I was either “too much”
or “too less” in your eyes.

It felt like I was confining
my ocean in your river.

Pupils beamed with radiance,
and naive genuineness flowed
as the illusion of love came her way.

But behind the tugging of strings
was a skillful maneuver
with his foxy intentions.

As the strings were played
back and forth,
emotions began to be strangled
and the cords that were struck
created a melody
to the tune of his accordance.

The fortress began to whither
but he was tired of his own maneuvers
that he gave into dispelling his intentions
before the frontier guarding her heart collapsed.

Though the barrier to intimacy
did not collapse completely,
the intention of ones kindness broke,
the illusion of ones amiable action broke
as it became the an act
just to open the gate of letting one in.

Trust withered,
but hope seemed to still be lingering
as the good in them, she always saw.

But after multiple tries,
of her heart being played with.
It was locked,
to the ones who would come along.

A nation that seeks to craft
what the forefathers draft;
a declaration of independence,
a nation of acceptance and coexistence.

A nation that weaves laws
for the ones of different colors,
wears,
and of worship —
building a homage for them all.

A nation with the vision of a blend of culture,
welcoming them into progressing lands  that play the tune of harmony
as blankets them in safety.

A tolerant nation
of multicultural lands,
and foreign tongues.
Building Seven Pillars
that stand tall and high
to inspire and ingrain
tolerance in every
crannies and nooks of the nation.

This is UAE.

Bathrooms became sanctuary in high school;
with tear stained countertops,
gossip soaked walls.
Even the constipated souls
had motion.

Pressing their hands against the ceramic demilune sinks
they would let their tears flow like water through the faucet,  
until they found comfort in the arms of another.

Hours spent before, between and after classes
they found comfort and friends
in the conversation that flowed in the bathroom.

Checking themselves over and over again
with the reassuring voices, “you look great” from behind.
Some walk in and hide behind the door of the lavatory stalls,
flushing away sadness,
and washing on a smile on to their face.

Like the granite in the slabs, the memories made
will will be hard to wear off.

Escape ,
that's what I would do
when things would get tough.
I would binge,
dream, eat, read & scroll.

I would create another world
where I would live,
free to be.
The place I would
forget about my happenings,
but this was not reality.

I would procrastinate and escape,
but my reality would await
to cuff me away.

With every escape,
my reality would become
a struggle to face

To everyone I was living life
but was I?
For my body was anchored to this world
While my head flew to another

Then came a time
When I no longer wanted to hide
Even though I knew
I did not have the appetite
Because my reality had
become so hard to emotionally swallow
But there was no choice
but to face

Courage
Step by Step
Patience through it all
Change finally came across
And my reality had become a better place

We are stars wrapped in skin,
a universe in ecstatic motion
that has a heart pulsating
like a supernova
and eyes made of stardust
that shines bright in the darkness.
Thoughts like candlelights,
flickering on and off.

So protect your light,
protect your flame
from the ice of others.

Let it burn,
let it burn brighter
Let it burn,
from within till it’s out.
Let your light shine,
whatever form it maybe.

Her stained thoughts manifest
as reckless voice that
critiques and confines.

Her words jars authenticity
and snubs their narrative,
cooked from their perspective,
and experience.

Flames of disapproval,
burn brighter with every beat
as incompetency bites
and acceptance withers.

She captures snapshots,
and confines them into
stereotyped framed
of idiosyncratic value.

But steadily,
as she delayers,
scrubs the scrutiny of judgements
of her thoughts, and emotions —
she steps off the battleground
of others skin
and becomes the change of creating
a embracing society.

It’s hurting
I can’t make it stop
You can’t take away the pain
I want it to stop
But it keeps clawing at my heart
It keeps raging in my mind
It keeps rotting in my veins
So,
I let the drugs take away the pain
Nicotine flows through my veins
And I escape.

Like the sun my mind sets,
like the moon my heart comes in power
;
the emotion filled tides
rising and crashing.
Like a waterfall my emotions flow,
like a volcano words escape.

Suppressed emotions unveiled

letting words with no logic escape
for the words are true,

the emotions are pure

allowing the ones around me
to hear my secrets as they divulge
,
catch a glimpse of vulnerability , raw and honesty

that are veiled by the morning light.

Once upon a time,
I dressed in fluffy frocks
and wore tiaras
believing I was a princess.

Now that I am older,
I find myself dressing in others skin
believing mine wasn't worthy
of being worn.

I am not feeling okay
The thoughts that were at bay
Are starting to weigh
Heavy on my mind
Heavy on my heart.

My thoughts start to sway
Guiding me astray
With its
overplay
and overstay.

Pieces of me
Start to fall away
Fade away
Further away.

I am starting to breakaway;
Flay away.

My mind frays
As my thoughts start to play,
my hands start to pray
And my words start to blow away
the people I hold so dear.

I will defray
Soon
But for now I am going to splay
my ache into words.

My thoughts are on a merry go round,
churning my mind in perpetual cycles
till it has been named chaos.

A certain memory rings in my ear,
deafening out the world;
as it climbs and slithers down my spine
echoing through the hollow shell I've become.

To write,
was to embrace all the waves
that you kept off the shore.

To write,
was to embrace the thoughts
you shoveled down
so they wouldn't have the power to hurt you.

To write,
was to feel liberated
of your shackles and confinement.

To write,
was to find yourself
navigating towards
your own thoughts
and emotions that you
kept away for so long.

To write,
was to feel once more
and be brought back to yourself.

“He is the ocean in my life while I am a single drop in his. He is the sun in my sky while I am the breeze that goes by unnoticed. He is the moon that guides me at night, while I am nothing but the darkness in his life. Excitement pulsates when he texts, but not a pulse more when I text. For I am just like the other girls he talks to; just one of them when he is the only one for me. Happiness rushes through my veins and nerves feel a gentle tickle in his presence. I feel everything deeply; pain and happiness when it comes to him, while he feels nothing. Sacrificing, asking, encouraging, adjusting and compromising when it’s never the same. He never runs when I slip away, but I stay when he walks away. I feel like I am chasing him; on a constant run for him to care. But he doesn’t care about me, as much as I care about him; and that hurts deeply than I ever thought it would.”

- excerpt from an open letter

I feel like an unsolved rubiks cube;
higgledy-piggledy.
Indecisive and confused,
Chaotic and muddled,
Vague and hazy.

Tongue twisted is what I feel
When someone asks;
for I can not say
anything for sure .

I am lost in the galaxy,
wandering through the forests -
I don’t know what path to take
to reach the destination set for me.

Oblivious to what I want
or what to do,
everything feels
unsure and unsteady
“It’s just a phase” is all I say .

For one day I will know,
the floor will not be unsteady
and it will be clear.

For I hold on to the hope
that one day
the rubiks cube will be solved

It arrives uninvited.
Quietly seeping in like toxic gas,
suffocating and poisoning
any thought etched with love,
leeching its happiness.

It unpacks anxieties,
dressing me in layers of loathing;
scraping insecurities
to let it rage on my being.

It gently coaxes my mind
painting every thought a shade darker
letting it heavy
myself to detachment.

It purrs and studies
getting comfortable;
morphing reality into a self made purgatory.

Slacking and barely coping with the pace of reality,
it tears fibers to root itself
allowing it to grow with every beat
leaving no energy to breathe.

Emptiness
Loneliness
Detachment
Stillness
are all back,
heaving my eyelids
leaving a trail of labels
down to my chin.

Until my hollow structures
implode into dark matter
leaving me one with the abyss.

I can't close my eyes,
I can't close my mind
as my thoughts keep me awake all night.

I toss and I turn,
trying to find comfort in my bed.

It's past midnight
and my thoughts have been rung
with gasoline
and been set on fire.
It consumes the small pieces of
happiness that I picked up during the day.

I gaze and think,
as there is no save tonight.

So I lay with a heavy mind
and empty heart
waiting for my eyes to slip to sleep.

An ocean;
an urge
A waterfall all ready to pour out
But not a single drop trickles down.
It’s all in
drowning
and
swimming;
gasping
and
breathing;
emotional
and
impulsive.
I am crying words,
for there are no tears.

"How can no one see?" he said softly, almost as a whisper that made her brow rise in confusion. But there was a strange slight relief around the curviness of her lips and in those dark deep blue eyes that seemed to have lit up turning a shade lighter. She exhaled a sigh of relief as though she was glad someone was asking or even talking to her.
"How can no one hear the air carrying the whispers of your cries? How can no one see the merge between the depthful ocean and the mysterious galaxy in your eyes? Does no one feel the sadness leaking out of your pores? The way your smile is never complete, how your cheeks does not swallow your eyes no more. Does no one see your face and say You're a beautiful masterpiece made of all these broken pieces and I want to know more."

You’re acting so cold,
Sending chills through my bones.
You’re acting so bold,
That it sounds like a scold.

I knew who you were from the start  
But now I don’t know who you are anymore.
Maybe it’s just a phase
Because of all the pain you endured.

But brick by brick
the towers have grown tall
And I can’t see you at all.

I am trying to find a worn area,
I am trying to find a window
To the softness that once existed
Because it feels like
there is nothing between us at all.

Her roots are growing upon your being,
waiting for the warmth of your presence
and the drops of your attention.

As it grows,
she begins to demand more
her appetite to sustain grows.

But slowly you’re furthering away
your radiation no longer reaching
upon her bare skin
as the trail of your shadow is left behind.

Just like the rest you’ve furthered,
leaving her parched and left to thirst
the reservoir that has stopped flowing.

Grief tastes like fear,
for attachment is the synonym of fear.
To be intertwined and interlinked,
to give and expect —
but to receive less
with the passing days.

The experience of the past
harbors fear,
tremble at the feel of attachment
that is ripped away
to leave her bare.

Before you leave
Before you detach
She will leave
and disentangle herself.

Passions, pleasure now feel like a chore,
making my life a bore
and my mind sore.
Tick, tock
Time is valuable
panic rises,
for there is a mental rigid routine to abide by.
But now my soul wears a dress,
which is stress.
Watching shows, self care and reading books
which once upon a time used to be relaxation,
have now become a cross off a to do list.
Losing interest in my mundane life,
I find my breath meaningless,
waking up pointless and have  
life just drag my corpse with time.
There are mountains;
burdening my mind and scraping my heart.
A soul of a robot is what I have,
except that I have a voice that complains
and ears that hear commands,
creating havoc on my mood and mind.
All what I loved, became
‘have to’ and ‘should do’,
a daunting tasks
requiring more effort than it did before.
Life seem drudgery and draining to wake up to.

But It was all about approach and perception.
Digging deeper with why,
I found reasons and meaning behind my life.
It was about relishing in the process,
rather than completing them.
In the errands for others; I searched for joy of my own.
Unleashing creativity in daily mundane activities,
it did not seem robotic no more.
Rediscovering happiness and enthusiasm,
making it interesting by sharing and snapping,
I set lose from the chains of my routine by reinvigorating spontaneity.
For what felt like burden, wasn’t meant to be felt like a burden.

A masterpiece of intricate mosaic,
a beauty underlied with chaos.
She lets them see,
what she wants them to see.

Front and center of it all
I am a big burning,
bright gas ball.

Planets spin around my girth,
Like Saturn, Mars,
Venus and Earth.

I am the one that rises
you in the morning
and leaves you stunned
by my leave.
I am the one
who blazes and scorches
and at times
hides behind the clouds.

Even though
I am 149.6 million km away
I am still there to
light your world
and keep you warm.

The whispers of tomorrow
tainted the marble walls as
the ones in the room painted
different shades and visuals
of their tomorrow.

The one with their hand jittery,
spine made of anxiety
stutter with their fear coated tongue,
the bouncing and rebounding words of
the chaos and panic of the heart;
the thought of uncertainty that
tomorrow dawns upon them.

As the word tomorrow is passed
on like a parcel amongst the ones sitting
the one with their pupils radiant
paints yellow and white
the hope a new day brings upon,
whereas the ambitious shouts
that she is a day closer to her goals
as she stands armored with passion and dreams.

The students have tomorrow
tattooed on their tongue,
a word that never comes
but morphs itself into the word procrastination.

But when it comes to me,
the moon dissolves into the sun
and the sun dissolves into the moon
as my yesterday, today and tomorrow become the same;
the shades of my life are painted all the same.

Toxic love spilling
Aroma of fumes diffusing
Vision blurring
Combusting heart beating
Manipulated brain thinking
Cancerous wounds multiplying
Contagious words infecting
Every lasting stain remaining
Fading clarity in this reality
A crumbling position, grabbing irregularity
Pure toxic entanglement
Slowly dying
There is no denying
For it is a cunning grotesque addiction

Your name wrung
between the lines of
fresher tender cuts.
Brushing a slower finger
over dusty pages,
disturbing untold stories
that was long untouched.

Your name is
the tap-tap of hammer nails
and the crimson consummator.

The barricading name,
of the mesmeric temple of apologies
molded by unequivocal agony and anger
lying in the bleak moor
laced with your remnants.

My mind is left shambled on the floor,
shards of memories
now leaking as exudate
am I being inflamed?

If I were to paint this across the canvas,
it’d be red, blue then purple
a galaxy with mismatched constellations
on a rippled fabric of night skies.

If I were to ink you to paper,
tracing you in black
you’d diffuse, cry and leak
into a pool of red,
dripping at the edge of the paper.

You are the cactus
pricking with every temptation.

The one engrained in my figmentation
wrapped in lessons
coloring the pigmentation of my skin
with various hues.

You are the open wound
with the fabricated scab.

You are the name
that rings inside my head,
echoing through my memories
trembling shakes, tremors
through the cronies
widening the past a little
more within me.

Whispers echoing in a trusted ear,
spoken to another ear.
Echoing louder than once before,
exaggerated and twisted
for you find everyone knows
those whispers you called secrets.
As it spread like a chain,
to one trusted person of theirs
to the next
The identity of those whispers
are no longer secrets but rumors.

I don't understand how the victim is the one to be blamed, as the predator goes off easily. The sensitive ones blamed for how they feel as their reaction are blown out of proportion while the predator gaslights and walk off with no responsibility or consequence for their action. Why is that salt is added to wound, trigger pulled on a trigger while the perpetuators, manipulators walk off free. I don't understand why the victims suffer, while the predators are glorified. I don't understand, and maybe by breathing naivety never will.

- To the many things, I fail to understand about this world

Oh my dear bumble bee
She said as she caressed
her soft honey colored hair.

Stay humble
through your flight so high.
Emerge with a special glee
Of bustling-buzzing excitement.

Let your golden stripped wings
Carry you to scope lands for enchantment.
To collect those dusty pollen
and transfigure them to honey
for you and others.

A honey comb of a heart
Resides in you my dear
So allow the honey to drip from your tongue.

And when science tries to prove
With their theories and mathematical proportions
that you can not fly high
Let them taste the sweetness
Of your hustle
and the sight of your flight.

Planted with love,
watered by compassion,
fertilized with the light of our presence.

But it was all an illusion,
for the it was planted in betrayal,
watered with disappointments,
fertilized with lies
and maintained by fakes.

Our roses were red,
but now they are dead.
Weak and brittle petals,
crumbling beneath my feet.

So maybe, we are glow sticks,
that need to break to glow.

So maybe, we are caterpillars
who digest themselves during metamorphosis,
to transform into a butterfly.

So maybe, we are stars
that need to collapse
in order to shine brightly.

So maybe, we need to breakdown,
to pick up the pieces and cast ourselves
as someone different.

So maybe, we need to shed
to become a better version.

So maybe, all this
crumbling
breaking
collapsing
was never a destruction
but a birth to something beautiful.

I don't know what it is to
live a balanced life.
For I tear at the seams,
and live in extremes.

When happiness embraces me,
I do not smile
But become the sun;
that glows, shine and gleams.

When sadness enwraps me
I don't drizzle, I rain
I become the hurricane of blue,
the abyss of the starless sky;
I become the void.

When anger smolders me;
I don't yell, I burn out my sanity
I become the boiling blood
and the explosion of heat.

When loss deprives me
I do not grieve, I do not tarnish
I break, shatter and tear
I become the heart that does not beat but bleeds.
I become the wailing wind that breezes through the cypress trees.

I am either cold like Vinson Massif
or soft like a marshmallow
For I am the one who experiences no in between.

Somedays,
I write to reunite the broken pieces of my heart.
Somedays,
I write when I am unable to cry.
Somedays,
I write the words that never leave my lips.
Somedays,
I write when I feel no one would understand me.
Somedays,
I write the words for help that my soul screams for.
And somedays,
I am unable to write about
the emptiness that exists within.

My heart is pacing
thudding against my ear drums
like I just ran a marathon.

I feel nauseous and light.
Breathe
But somehow this word doesn't seem to make a difference.
Breathe
But no sir seems to find a way into my lungs.
Breathe
But somehow all I find myself is being a sympathetic nervous system.
With self doubt crashing
and enveloping me.

My hands are trembling with
jittering nerves passing underlyingly.
Somehow nothing is soothing
Or calming me.

The name of it left buzzing malls empty,
sanitizers out of stock,
masks and hygiene products booming.

It revolutionized responses to sneezes
from bless you to get away from me.
It shut down schools and flights
bringing governments to its knees.

It snatched sleep from health workers,
that now risk their lives every day to be
the hustle towards the cure of it.

It declined stock markets,
dissipated jobs like
they were a mere nothing.

It ticked off the many goals of our buckets list
by travelling across the world,
and leaving the world impacted.

It disconnected touch,
grafted face masks onto people.
But wait, France is this a veil you’ll ban as well?

It revolutionized greetings,
made many of us home bounded –
is this the final push to making every inch of our lives digitalised?

As for the kids,
the final teachings of their doctors,
teachers and parents is put to work;
they’re finally washing their hands.

With her jagged edges she stands,
gazing upon the connection between the well versed,
as her language remains misunderstood,
dark and chaotic.

Her edges are sharp,
and grooves are too deep.
The rhythm of her heart
& blood pulsation
feel out of orbit.

An outsider,
an outcast
trying to jam to fit in puzzles;
blunting her edges,
painting herself with different hues to blend.
Yet within she is out of tune.