i have gotten so good at pretending that everything is okay that it is second nature to me now. with a straight face I will tell you that I'm fine and with a relieved smile you'll say great and we'll go our separate ways and at night i will cry everything away and i night my demons come out to play my mind is their playground and oh my how much fun they have they plunder and pillage all the happiness I once had

Where wars are fought with words
And slammed doors
Shouting
Raised voices
And desperation
Exasperation
A threatening fist raised
Shock
I am unhappy you make me that way
Sobbing
Sob in front the kids
Scream in front of them too
Make them believe that love is a lie
Make them never want to get married
Ruin their lives
Ruin your lives too
Yeah in this new warzone we love being unhappy
In this new warzone we love the pain
In this warzone being alive means you're dead on the inside

and you'll know what it is when you see it
and your throat begins to constrict
and your chest feels heavier
and it is just difficult to breathe
and you can feel emotions bubbling up from the pit of your stomach
and you know you are going to cry
and the memories come flooding back
and you know you just can't bear to feel again
and despite knowing this you don't look away
and you begin to wonder whether you actually like the pain
and it is getting more difficult to breathe
and you know that soon you are going to be overwhelmed
and you do nothing to stop it because it was a part of you for so long it demands to be felt and accepted wholly, completely it demands that you cling onto it and never let it go it wants your attention it need you attention it does not care about you it cares about your attention you fool stop living in the past the past is the past it is over get over it
but
you
never
will

Suffocation isn’t always hand on neck,
Squeezing, pressing down,
Blocking off air death.
Suffocation is the man with his tie tightened around his tender neck
Every morning 5 am
He is told he needs to work hard (and overtime) to feed his family
Does he not care about them?
Whittle his soul down to a single strand of consciousness,
Again and again,
Exhausted, stressed
Failing relationships,
Doesn’t speak to parents,
Hasn’t seen wife in 3 weeks
But work, yes bills, more important.
Work till you die,
Profit first everything else second.
Suffocation is the student,
Hand squeezing pen,
Eyes shut,
Failed another test,
She didn’t have time to study,
Deadlines,
Homework,
Projects,
overwhelming,
pushing her down,
tries to scream fails can't breathe,
silent cries for help unnoticed,
passion for learning depleted cold and dark and alone,
anxious, trembling, when will the next test be when will the next failure come when

suffocating dying restricted.
not always hand on neck restricting.
Sometimes, it's the restriction of the mind;restriction of the soul.

I came broken, cracked and empty.
Beaten down by life
I came weary
I came exhausted and I came resigned.
You came content,
You came with a smile,golden soul spilling over the edges of the vessel that is your body,
You came with laughter and you came with positivity
and you came to me.
and you patched me up and you held me in your arms and you gave me some of your soul and I am complete and I am content and I am
broken
you came and then you left
you couldn't commit a soul like yours needs to travel
and i nodded numbly tears washing me hollow again
and you never turned back you never came back
you left me alone you never cared you left me
you left

The other day my sister lamented that she did not look like one of those white, blonde, blue-eyed beauties on television.
This struck me for a number of reasons mainly for the fact that we are Indian girls who are neither white, blonde nor blue-eyed and it is physically impossible for us to be like that because it's coded into our genes.
Why then did my sister want to be so much like these beauties that she could never look like.
Why then did my sister want to change herself so much, change they very coding in her genes, change the very fabric of her body?
I was not able to respond to her at the time but this is my response to her.
Society's standards of beauty were created by entrepreneurs looking to make a quick buck.
They market such celebrities as beautiful and, through subliminal messages tell you that if you do not look like them, you are ugly and not worthy.
And it is so easy for them to do this because of the Westernisation of cultures all over the world.
Go to any supermarket and the first things yo will see under the beauty section are bleaching and whitening creams.
It is true that these white, blonde, blue-eyed beauties are stunning, gorgeous.
But why should their beauty mean that you aren't beautiful?
You are the culmination of years of evolution,
the stars have been planning your arrival.
Look at yourself in the mirror,
Stare into the dark brown irises of your eyes and understand that they are like pools of chocolate, understand that they are the colour of the bark of the tress understand that they are beautiful.
Caress your brown hair, run your fingers through it, you are beautiful.
Look at your caramel-coloured skin, don't you just love the colour? It's deep and sweet and beautiful.
Your body, the vessel of your soul in beautiful and every step you take is magical and your voice sounds like a bow playing perfectly on a violin and your laugh ringing out sounds like wind chimes in a light breeze.
Don't you understand?
You are a ******* masterpiece.
Don't treat yourself any less.