I love someone truly honest
someone who is always at her best,
That someone is a real bunch of hidden talents
and to me is of great importance,
I love her for she is jolly and sweet
the way she draws is pretty and neat,
I love her for she is optimistic and wise
with a lovely smile and beautiful eyes,
I love her own melodious notes of The Hanging Tree
I love my dear little POLKI.

She smiled but it wasn't real,
nobody could even know,
her smile-faking skills were now ideal
and her pain, she would never show.

She had wished to share and vent,
to scream and cry once and for all
how broken, hurt and lost she felt
she too wished to be cared for.

But she smiled instead,
For who would want to listen ?
Who would ever believe ?
Who would offer a shoulder to cry on ?
Who would still embrace her ?
For whom could she even trust?

So she smiled, for she knew
it was the easiest to do.

-Archita

When you wished to rant,
I lent you my ear,
When you had to cry,
I was there to stop that tear.
When you were not sure to confide,
I comforted you so you could,
When you were wronged,
I stood for and spoke for you.
When you needed my time,
I didn't check my schedule,
did not think twice.

But I wonder, where were you ?
When I wished to cry,
When I wished to share,
When I needed to be comforted,
When I needed you to just be there.
Where were you ?

I wondered for long and in the end
had to cry myself to bed.
It is later that I realised,
I 'expected' you to be there
was where I went wrong.
But I continue to be kind to you,
tell me, is that wrong too ?

I am spoken to
when they need,
I am often lied to
in their eyes, I read.
Their reality, they never flaunt
their heart betrays,
ever ready to daunt
not once do they praise.
Within them lies
reverse of what they show
and the envy in their eyes,
I can easily follow.
My words are ignored
and forgotten, before you know it
clearly revealing, oh Lord,
all my value and merit.
I had dreamt of learning
and growing together,
but they were contesting
I wasn't aware.
I will lose them
I still fear,
though I know
they still won't care.
How naive of me
to have thought of friendship
to be simple and hearty
like a warm kinship.
But I was either mistaken
through it all,  
or I could myself never be
a friend, good enough at all.

-Archita