What is a smile?
To others,
a smile is an expression of happiness,
of emotion.
To me,
a smile is an act.
A facade.
To hide my real feelings.
To hide the perpetual frown planted on this face of mine.
Maybe I fake a smile because I want it to remain frozen on my face,
forever.

The wind ruffles my hair as I sit atop the hill and stare at what I see.
A normal person would see buildings, cars,
anything you would find in a typical concrete jungle.
However,
I see racism and sexism.
Prejudice everywhere.
People assume.
People speak without knowing what the truth is.
People hurt others intentionally
These people who hurt others do not stop to consider that
their victims are human, like them.
All of us,
mere flesh and blood.
We're the same.
Male, female, homosexual.
Asian, Caucasian, Middle Eastern.
We're all bones, muscles, blood.
We are the same.
There's no need to discriminate.

You may think it's funny.
Plain teasing.
Just girls having fun but you don't know.
You don't know what I've struggled with.
You weren't there all those nights when I cried myself to sleep because I was not thin like them.
All the times I would skip meals and tell my mom I had eaten elsewhere.
All the times I survived on water for the whole day.
All the times I came this close to sticking a finger down my throat and emptying the contents in my stomach.
It took me so long to feel okay and comfortable with myself.
Until you said that word.
It's funny how one word could have such an impact on me but you don't know my struggle.
When I got home after that, all I could see in the mirror was fats.
I had begun to determine my self worth by my calorie intake and the size of my waist.
I hated myself once again.

I've been blessed with the curse of loving you.

Suffocating.
Restricted.
Can't
breathe.
Lost.
Confused.
Lonely.
Annoyed.
Gasping
for
air.
Blocked
windpipe.
Can't
move.
Hands
bound.
Mouth
gagged.
Silent
screams.
Tears
roll.
I'm
not
fine.

I live in my fantasy world.
It is a place where all the characters in the books I have read can come to life.
They become my friends.
They don't lie,
they aren't fake.
Sometimes,
I stay in this world for too long.
I lose sense of what is real and what isn't.
I seem to think that I become a fictional character.
Of course,
that would be ideal.
I wouldn't have to lie.
Even the villains in books don't lie.
They openly hate the heroes.
In real life,
they'll talk behind your back,
they will make your life hell.
I wish I could be a fictional character.
I never will be.
I can't.
I'm always brought back to reality.
If insanity is what can liberate me from this,
then I'll gladly lose my sanity to live in my world of fictional characters.

People sometimes ask me why I study so hard.
The question always stumped me.
Why do I study so hard?
Why do I stay up till the wee hours of the morning to study?
Then, I realised.
I don't have looks.
I don't have a good body.
I don't even have a good personality!
All I had was my brain, and my words.
Knowing this pushes me to study harder so that I won't be left behind.
Maybe I just want to belong.
I mean, each clique has it's distinctive trait which unites a group of people.
The good-looking (and typically popular people) group together.
The outgoing ones group together.
The athletically inclined ones group together(and they run in every single marathon that they can.)
I don't fit in any of those.
I can only hope that by studying hard, I will not only get good grades and a sense of accomplishment and pride but,
that I'll belong.
And that's all that I've ever wanted.

There are demons within me.
They appear every now and then.
I'm not gonna lie.
Sometimes,
these demons convince me to **** myself.
And yes, I have considered suicide.
I thought long and ******* the matter and I decided that it was not worth it.
Why should I end my life over this rough patch?
Then, I ask myself,
Is this just a rough patch?
People say it's part of puberty.
Part of being a teenager.
Why are my demons in control for so long?
Why does only puberty have the ability to make my demons torture me?
What if, it's myself?
What if, I'm my own demon.

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.

Because when I was 4, my mom told me that I could not like blue because it was a 'boy' colour.  
Because when I was 5, the kids at kindergarten made fun of me for my 'boy' hairstyle.
Because when I was 6, dad refused to buy me a toy car because it is a 'boy' toy. He got me a Barbie doll. 'Good for girls,' he said.
Because when I was 7, my teacher scolded my for my 'boy' handwriting.
Because when I was 8,after a bad fall, my mom lamented that I would never be able to wear a skirt, instead of asking if I was ok.
Because when I was 9 I watched as my relatives mocked my male cousin for cooking. "Leave it to the women" they said.
Because when I was 10, I was told that I ran like a girl. 'But I am a girl', I said. They laughed at my innocence.
Because when I was 11, I was warned my my mother that I would be too fat to be loved. As though his love had to be spread all over my fats.
Because when I was 12, puberty started and the acne set in. It was my mom's worst nightmare.
Because when I was 13, my mom reemphasised that I was too fat to be loved. I felt like ****.
Because when I was 14, I starved myself so that I would be beautiful. I did look like a 'proper girl', my parents agreed.
Because when I was 15, the stress of impending national exams got to me and my hair started to fall out. My mom prayed for my soul, and my scalp.
Because when I was 16, in the car 37 minutes ago. My mom scolded me for my acne scars, saying that I was too scarred to ever get a job, or a husband. Most importantly a husband.
Because gender roles affect us all, male or female. Stop labelling people.

You're a spoiled brat.
Daddy's always bought you everything.
Expensive clothing, expensive phones, expensive holidays.
Daddy's cash even bought you friends.
You think those girls actually like you?
You think they can't see your spiteful ways?
They're there for the $3 macaroons or souvenirs you gift them.
You think anyone who does not wish to hang out with you is below you.
You treat them like dirt.
Every time I say Hi to you, you completely ignore me,
as though I'm not even worth your time.
You only hang out with the 'pretty' girls,
or rather, your definition of pretty.
Underweight while wearing revealing clothing.
I've had enough of you.
Wake up or you'll eventually have no one else and you'll be left on the curb, alone.
But,of course, you'll always have your designer shades!
That's a relief, isn't it?

You broke me
I stood there, tears running down my face
The hurt in my eyes, you could not see
I stood in my place
A dream I once thought could be
But you left in such haste
You broke me
The world cup I never won.

I like to write poems that rhyme,
Though I haven't gott much time.
Rhyming poems work my mind.
They're one of a kind.

Sometimes they are lame.
The words may sound the same.
The words aren't bombastic, they're tame.
If you find this poem boring, it's Obama you should blame.

Okay, the words are kind of forced in.
This poem should be in the bin.

And yes, this poem is childish.
And yes I can no longer be bothered to make the words rhyme-ish (A for effort?)
But this poem was light-hearted.
Something to cheer me up.
And it make me smile.
:)

Innocence is as pure as true love
As clean as a dove
As heavenly as fondue
A far cry from untrue
Innocence is the sound of the wind through the trees
But I sometimes wonder
Is it always what it seems?
Or is it not?
My love always said
It is what the eye sees and the mind believes
It is simply a game of hidden lies and pretty eyes.
It is a disguise for the guilty
A shield for the weak
Something rather oblique
A reason to deny
Innocence is nothing but a pure flawless lie

How does someone dare to **** someone else.
How do you bear to look at someone and think,
"I want her even if she won't let me."
I mean, that's what must be going through the ******'s mind, right?
How dare you take away a girl's future?
How dare you?
How dare  you take away her first relationship, or kiss, or even her virginity?
How do you live with yourself?
It's just sick.

If only falling asleep were as easy as closing your eyes. If only I didn't have to fight a battle with them. If only I weren't always so exhausted. If only I could sleep without being haunted by your face.

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.

THERE WILL BE CUSSING.












I try my best not to swear but I have to do it in this case.


******* *****. You don't know ****. Talking to people about me you ******* *****. all those ******* lies you ******* ****. ******* I HOPE YOU ******* DIE IN A HOLE *****. I do not wish for anyone's death having considered my own but I can't take you anymore. I've been nothing but nice to you and yet you're still a *****. No one should die except you. GOD I HATE YOU SO ******* MOUTH. CAN'T YOU SHUT YOUR ******* MOUTH *****. I'LL IGNORE YOU AND YOU CAN IGNORE ME. I'M TIRED OF THE ******* RUMOURS AND GOSSIP. CAN'T I REST FROM IT ONCE. ******. ****. YOU'LL BE ALL ALONE IN THE END.

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

I've already ******* apologised *****. So shut the **** UP. Your voice sounds like chalk against a chalk board. No one want to hear you talk. Oh you were thinner then me when you were my age?? Well you're 48 now *****, not 16 so shut the **** UP!!! ******* you're ******* me off. I'll not answer you back. I'll write a poem about it and brush it off you ain't got nothin on me *****, above you I'll rise. So shut the **** UP.

Taken from Sara Bareilles' song called 'Brave'. I don't claim to own any part of the song but I just really like these few lines.

" Say what you wanna say,
and let the words pour out.
I wanna see.
I wanna see you be brave!"

It is so easy to change our lives. We do not realise just how powerful we are. A thought could revolutionalise the world for the better. If we could just stand up and speak, make up our mind to be the best we possibly can. o stop watching those videos on Youtube, to stop scrolling through Facebook with a blank mind and then snapping out of it at the end of the day only to find that your life reeks of dysfunction and unproductivity and that you wasted an amazing day that you could have spent changing your life.
The butterfly effect.
Your decisions today affect your life tomorrow. Have the choices you made today given you a better tomorrow?

The second I stepped out of the exam hall,
I felt the stress lifted off my shoulders,
only to be replaced with the stress of worrying if I will pass,
or not.

Exams in 11 days.
Just the week after tomorrow.
It still feels like it's months away.

Life knows how to hit you in the most unexpected ways.
You may think you're getting better when actually,
you're just living in a deluded world.
You may think you fixed yourself when you're still broken and the pieces scattered around you.
Reality, pushed to the furthest corner of my mind.
I'm living in dreamland.
How am I to face reality,
an enraged beast,
trapped in there for many months.
How am I to face it when dreamland comes crashing down?

I'm
F
  A
     L
        L
           I
             N
                G
Through thin air,
Nothing is suspending me.
Falling.
Falling
No one notices.
And then,
I'm gone.
*Fallen

Disappointment coursed through my veins.
Another failure.
Another time I wasn't good enough.
Why am I not good enough?
Why can't I score straight As?
How can others',
who don't study as hard as me,
score higher than me?
I always tell myself to study harder.
And, I do!
Then, I get another failure.
I wallow in self-pity.
Why can't I change?
Each failure kills me from inside.
Chip by chip.
Piece by piece.
Excruciating pain.

This is for the forgotten ones
For the in-betweeners
For the never-good-enoughs
This is for my strong people
Who struggle daily to find their footing in a world that seems to take pleasure in seeing them trip
For the second choices
For the I'll-date-her-if-I-have-no-other-options
For those who always feel alone
For my fighters
I understand you and I am so proud of you
It is not easy to live the way you do and yet you are breathing
This is for my forgotten people who simply exist while no one cares
I'm with you and
I care

Oh My Gosh ------! You got an A for the test again!
You're worthless
You have really pretty eyes!
You're so ugly. My eyes are bleeding
I love your figure!
Fat slop
You're so smart!
You stupid fool

I hate you
I hate you, no one likes you.
Die in a hole
**** yourself
*****
*****
****
Attention Seeker
Stupid
**** YOURSELF
I'm dying, can't you see?

I wonder if you ever think of me,
I wonder if sometimes I'm the only one you can see.
Maybe it's just plain fantasy
But, I wonder if we could ever be.
But it's not as good as you thought it would be
because all the shards are on the ground but you choose not to see.

But,darling, we're stepping on the shards.
And we love the pain.
It makes us feel alive.
It takes our minds off from the pain within.
But one day, you could take the pain no more.
You left right out the front door.

Now the shards still take away the inner pain with physical pain.
Just, not in the same way.

I bit down on my lip,hard.
I drew blood.
The anxiety.
I needed to talk to you.
I was confused.
I was lost.
I needed you to explain it all to me.
I tried to talk to you before.
However you said you did not want to hear my voice again.
I'm sorry for annoying you but I need to know the answer.
The answer to all the problems.
Cautiously,
I raised up my hand to ask you about the solution to the Math question.

I feel like i'm spiralling down a deep hole and rappelling into the darkness and i am doomed to stay there for eternity  i feel like there is no more hope for me i don't feel motivated to live or even type this poem but i had to do it i have to do this i have to study and i have to ace my exams a lack of motivation is not an option at this point in time please someone help me because i have reached rock bottom and there is no way up only smooth walls of rock and i fall back down sliding down these smooth slippery walls everytime i try i have to use my fingers and grip the rock as as hard as i possibly can until my fingers are ****** and my skin is torn and i will claw my way up from rock bottom i will not meet my demise here this is not where i will end there is still a glimmer of hope and i am going to reach out for this glimmer and never lose sight of it for if i do, the consequences are dire

Stop bringing me into your fight!
Both of you are my friends and I love you equally.
I would get you to stop fighting but I can't.
So I'll remain neutral (like Switzerland)
and pray that you stop fighting so that I can
talk to both of you again without being accused of siding another party.

You say nothing as you watch me crumbling
Whispering a defiant 'i'm ok'
Tears streaming down my face
I'm not looking at you
You notice this
You say 'you're not'
I agree silently
I cannot find it within me to talk more
I am exhausted
I do not know how to explain how much i think about dying
I do not know how to seek help
But you know i am crumbling
You see
And you stare
Numbly blankly
Back at me
Hands in your pocket you do nothing
And i plead with you silently to help me
You notice this and you still stare
Numbly blankly
And then i collapse and i disappear
And you say 'what a shame. If only i had known'
And you walk away

I blindly ***** for your warmth in the darkness.
So cold, so alone.
I find you and I smile.
You seemed to be smiling too but I could not be sure.
I ran my hands along your selender neck and along all your smooth curves.
And then we played throughout the night.
But darling, let the neighbours complain because I am in love with you.
My darling, beautiful.
My violin.

they creep in slowly
when i least expect it
in school during math
at home when I'm watching a video
in the bus as i stare out of the window
crawl in on all fours
they know what they want
they take it
they leave me empty
the won't leave me alone
not even when i am broken
and crying
and i have nothing left to give
they still find something to take
my mind is an endless hum of suicidal thoughts
whispers
and so i talk louder and
laugh harder and
try to drown them out and
it never works because they are still there
friends look at me with concern
it's just the stress i tell them, exams and deadlines
they buy it
excellent
so everyday i am free
to go home to
suicidal thoughts and chill

I don't know if you remembered that time when we were 12 and I told you that I had a crush on you.
You threw me a look of disgust and said 'ew'.
Ew.
Ew.
That word stuck with me.
I know it was when we were 12. Even more immature than we are now but ew
Now, years later, I saw your name on Instagram.
****
I think.
****.
My heart gave a familiar flutter.
You stupid, stupid girl. A crush? An infatuation? The same freaking guy?
It took me a month to muster up the courage to press that follow button.
It took you 15 minutes to accept and another 37 minutes for you to follow me.
*fuuuuuck

Boring lesson.
Droopy eyes.
Monotonous voice.
No motivation to study.
Useless subject,
I'll never use in real life.
*yawn

I want to cut.
I yearn to smell that metallic scent of blood.
Feel smooth crimson droplets roll down my wrists.
Watch them fall to the floor, into a puddle.
Into the puddle diluted with my salty tears.
Weakling. Can't you even take this much pain?
Biting on my lip,
I press the razor down even more,
still crying.
The blood flow increases to an ooze.
A thin stream of blood flowing down my pale wrists.
I feel free, I feel like I'm in control. Only I can hurt myself.
LIES
I'll never be the only one to hurt myself.
Other people still will.
I no longer want to stick around to get hurt.
I want to move on the other side,
to whatever may be waiting for me.
It would only be too easy
I want to sink into oblivion.
One day I will.
*That day is today

i feel like a soul
trapped in a body
that is trapped in a mundane, sad life
and i need a weapon
to break this body open
so that my soul come spilling out and i can be free

oh what should my weapon be?
so many choices
so little time
before the time bomb in my mind explodes
leaving me a mess of thoughts and emotions
resurfacing repressed memories
makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop
the demons have been let out of their cage again
and they're here to play
tugging on my heartstrings
constricting my throat
crawling under my skin begging me to join them
it's so easy, you can do it i know you can just hold on tightly, pull the trigger, that's right, you're doing so well
we'll see you on the other side

Oh Bassanio,
why are you such a mystery?
I can't find any evidence,
you're the cause of my misery.

You are a low-life racist,
You nearly killed your friend!
I'll say,
you are a fiend.

Bassanio,
why don't you just die?
Then,
I can gleefully say 'Bye Bye'.

I saw you in school again.
I was wondering how we ended up like this.
I loved you like my own sister.
Oh, yes, that's right!
You're a backstabbing *****.

I bet you think that the boy at Kindergarten will be your biggest problem. The only one in class who doesn't seem to like you. 10 years down the road and you'll realise that you were lucky to have friends at all. You love Math. I bet you never expected to cry yourself to sleep every night when you were 15. No, you thought you'd be popular and happy. You never thought that you wished you were dead  You never thought that you'd hate your body. You never thought that you'd have no friends but, **** happens, right? You have no friends. No one likes you. You feel like puking every time you look in the mirror. You know hate Math because it is more structured than your thoughts. You will wonder how you went from a girl full of love and hope to a girl full of hate and tears. But **** happens. And the way things are looking now, it's only going to get worse.

I will patch up the cracks within.
I'll hold you close.
I won't let your warmth slip through my fingers.
Trust me!
I'm not one to talk.
We've both made mistakes but I've learned.
I've learned not to take you for granted.
I'm never going to let you go.
Can't you see that I need you?
Love me.
Love me again.
Give me another chance.
I was once a fool,
not anymore.
Please.
*please

you did not see me crumblin
                                                    g
under the weight of my thoughts
you did not see the tear slip down,
rolling down my cheek

maybe you did not care.
maybe i'm tired of always being the second choice
maybe i want to feel important and loved and worthy
and maybe you can't do that for me
and maybe that's okay
i've lived my entire life like this,
what's a while more?

thank you for being there during all the good times,
they were few and far in between but
you were there i guess.
you were always there.

just never when i needed you most

i'm so tired
of you
of everyone around me
i'm so tired of living like this
i am so tired of pretending to be okay
pretending that i am not falling apart
*******
*******
i am so ******* tired
i just want to curl into a ball and cry
but everywhere i look
i see you and it ******* burns

this is just a self-reflection of sorts. I was looking bak at the first poem I wrote basically 2 years ago and I've realized how much I've grown as a person. I wish I still had my first account on here, where I was not anonymous but I had to delete that due to personal reasons. Upon thinking back to the circumstances under which I wrote my first poem on this account, I realize that my problems are actually smaller than I perceive them to be. At the time of said poem, I was facing some stuff at school that I though would be the end of the world but look; I'm alive and healthy 2 years later and I'm doing much better. I've just been too busy recently to write poems because I have some really important national exams this year that basically determine the outcome of the rest of my life.Thank you to everyone who follows me or who has read a single one of my poems in the past, even if you didn't really care about it or even like it at all because you were are part of this process of self-realisation and discovery that I went through and you've honestly changed my life 180 degrees around. I'm definitely much happier and positive than I was 2 years ago. For those who care (if any) : I'll still be writing poems as writing is my passion and I hope to do English or Literature at University (college) level, that is, if I manage to convince my parents (who seem dead set on me doing law) .

1) don't sweat the small things
2) don't get a joint bank account.
3) don't fight in front of your kids
4) do not marry person you've been on 2 dates with, just beause you want to spite your parents.
5) do not vent your anger out on each other
6) communication is key
7) you're probably better off not married

You try to bring me down
you never will.
You think you can restrain me,
Chain me,
Lock me down,
You never will.

I won’t listen,
Not now, not ever,
I won’t listen.
I just won’t.
No matter how hard you try,
You will never take me down.

Up up up,
to the top, I’ll rise
At rock bottom,
You’ll see your demise.

With razor sharp words, you take your aim,
But your strikes, they miss,
Missed by a long shot.  
Thanks for trying.
you’ll never take me down.

Such symmetry,
Such perfection.
The perfect letter.
Y.
The wishbone.
Y.
The fork in the road.
Y.
Streams diverging from a river.
Y.
The question I ask over and over but get no answer.
Y.