Freedom is the ability to live without worries.
Freedom is not having to answer to anyone.
Freedom is being able to do whatever you want, whenever you want and without any consequences.
Freedom is always being happy.
Freedom is the ability to have no responsibilities.
Freedom is to not have any stress.
Freedom is to be able to close your eyes and let the ocean engulf you, without dying.
That's right, you deluded soul.
Freedom does not exist.

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

All I wanted was a friendship like the one we had.
Not a day goes by without me wondering why
we fell out.
Why couldn't our friendship last?
Now, I live life in a lonely corner and I see you,
laughing,
smiling,
joking.
Doing everything you used to do with me,
with you new "friends"

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.

I feel more mature now.
I feel older than before.
After you broke me,
I changed.
I became more bitter.
But it felt bittersweet.
Could something good come out of this incident?
You see,
now I'm like glass.
Under a lot of pressure,
I became strong.
You won't be able to hurt me again.
Yet, glass is still brittle.
If you break me again,
I won't be able to be fixed,
no matter how much glue you use.
There will still be cracks.

I blew up,
once.
I cried my eyes out for no reason.
It felt good.
I felt that the tears dissolved away my problem.
I felt happy.
I blew up once
That's no reason to treat me like a grenade.
Like I might burst any second.
I'm stronger than you think I am.
I'm stronger than I think I am.

Glad
Exhilarated
Exuberant
Overjoyed
Ecstatic
I won't have to face my fake class anymore.
*Ever

I feel this burning hate for you rush through my body.
I hate you! How dare you throw my book on the floor.
Then I pause,
aghast.
Do I really hate you just because you threw my book on the floor?
Or has this been pent up since the day I started to speak out?

You can argue that hatred is the absence of love.
Or that love is the absence of hatred.
One thing you can't argue about is that either one can exist without the other.
On the basis of love,
there must be hatred.
On the basis of hatred,
there must have been love.
One can simply say that,
love is hatred and hatred is love for,
both end up hurting you.

I feel so helpless.
Comforting you.
Telling you I'm here for you.
All behind the screen.
I wish I could reach out and grasp onto your hand,
and pull you out of the pit that is your soul.
Please don't sink deeper.
Reach for my hand.
Take it.
I know I'm behind a screen but I'm trying,
desperately to save you.
Save you before you sink deeper.
Don't leave me!
Don't you dare!
Hang on please, I'll help you.



Hello?


*Hello?

Her heart is cold.
Her eyes are sunken.
She has grown weary of life.
He lungs are heavy.
Her face is pale.
Her limbs are frail.
Her arms,
Scarred.
She picks up the blade with her dainty fingers.
It was her escape from reality.
Now,
it's her escape from the world.

I bet you never expected that your parents would be the ones to break you.

i pull my eyeball out of my socket
or perhaps,
i remove my socket from my eyeball
the moon is howling
the wind is shining
i grin a grin of blood and ... joy?
eyeball in hand,
or was it the socket?
maybe it's the hand in my eyeball
either way
i take a step towards the water
i feel it lapping at my ankles
i lie down face first
the water breathes me in and
we float
in that uterine comfort we once knew
when I open my eye/socket/hand
i see that i am in a tank
the light refracts across the water
gliding
i worm my way to the base of the tank and i
                                                                                          push
my body is too heavy
i reach between my legs
and
pull out my guts
they slither away into the dark abyss
i close my eye/socket/hand
i sleep

It was a few days ago,
while I was still on holiday with my family in Bali.
We went for a buggy ride and I was with my mum.
It was a particularly wet day and the buggy skidded.
We nearly crashed into a large rock wall but we managed to stop in time.
Maybe we would not have died,
maybe we would have.
But,
the panic I felt in that spilt second,
the panic I felt when I thought I might die.
The fear was real.
I realized that I did not want to die.
Not that way.
I wanted to grow old and leave my mark on this world I did not want to die.
I wasn't suicidal anymore.

As I told her that I don't hold any grudges to her,
I knew she was relieved,
even though she was texting me.
Now,
when I look back at it and ask myself,
am I still hurting from that incident?
And, I realize that I'm not.
I forgive you
I really do.
For,
with these three words,
I'm liberated and so are 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 see the text you sent me regarding the holiday homework we received.
That's all you ever wanted from me.
Academics.
Just because , and I'll admit,
I score well in tests,
does not mean that I want to help you.
That was why you used me.
You used me and threw me away.
Not before stabbing me in the back.
I trusted you,
I did.
You know what?
I hate you.
I don't hate anyone.
You bring out the worst in me.
***** you.
***** you
I'm done.
I'm done trying to make things right,
I'm done trying.
I'm done.

now i know where i stand with you
and what i mean to you
which is absolutely nothing
and it makes me so ******* angry
all my energy spent on you
for me to be nothing to you
you're too self-centred to even realise what is going on
if i weren't so angry, i'd almost be sorry
but *******

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?

Hey:) Are you okay?

Persuade me.
Tell me not to go.
Give me a reason to live.
please
Give me a sign,
anything.
Show me that you care.
Tell me I'm worth it.
I'm withering.
I just don't know anymore.

I'm fine. It's nothing :D

~

I failed a test for the first time in my life.
I failed.
Does the results of one test make me a failure?
I mean, people have failed many times before!
Then why,
does this failure affect me so much?
I try so hard to be perfect.
Not a toe out of line.
Balancing my studies and passion for acting.
I've been able to do it for the past three years!
Why am I crumbling now?
Did perfection leave cracks on the inside that could not be seen?
Was perfection something I used to covered up the imperfections?
I can see them all.
The blemishes,
The flaws.
Makes my skin itch.
It's not perfect.
It's not in order!
It's not the way it should be!
I'm not the way I should be

I'm just so angry
I'm paying for her mistakes.
I feel like punching the wall.
I want to hear my knuckles crack from the impact.
I want to scream till I can't scream anymore.
I want to scream till my voice box bursts.
I want to kick.
I want to slap.
I want to pinch.
I don't want to be angry.

I'm the girl who remembers almost everyone's birthday but no one remembers mine. I'm the girl who give everyone stuff but n one give me stuff. I'm the girl who comforts everyone but no one comforts me. I'm the girl eho gives my all but no on cares. It's like they expect it of me because I'm so easy to step all over.

I'm tired of all the drama.
I'm tired of faking a smile
I'm tired
I'm tired of saying I'm fine.
I'm tired of lying.
I'm tired
I'm tired of hearing your insults.
I'm tired of watching you gossip about me.
I'm tired
But most of all,
I'm tired of being tired.
*I'M TIRED

You're just a road bump in my life; a tiny invonvenience.
You know, survival of the fittest?
And boy, will I be crowned the ******* Queen once I survive you.

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

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

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

It was then I realised:
Whenever I died a little inside,
you were born again.

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

Technically, we are all dying.
We'll die eventually, in 80 years, in a month, in a day.
We all die.
Truth is, not all deaths are equal.
That homeless man on the street?
He died yesterday.
Not a single soul mourned.
But that famous actor who died because of a drug overdose?
Yeah, millions mourned, though they did not know him.
Some deaths hurt you more than other deaths.
Just like how his death hurt me.
He didn't die per say, but, he died on the inside.
That killed me too.
Eventually everyone dies.
Everyone will just be a memory and after that, nothing.
But I don't want to just be a memory.
I don't want to be nothing.
I want to impact lives.
I want to stay alive in the work I have done.
But.
Everyone will be a memory.
Just like how you will forget about this poem five minutes after you read it.
One day the earth will forget me.

they say that time is supposed to heal but the wounds you left were permanent and raw and they still bleed today if I stretch too much
my mind is a vast expanse and you are the lonesome tree in the centre dominating the landscape leaving room for nothing else
you said our love would transcend death but our love is dead and I wish I was too
my body was the battlefield and your tongue was the weapon and we fought many wars together but we all know battle scars never fade and you left as rashly as you came leaving me a barren wasteland
and I yearn to feel your body against mine, shadows cast by neon lights 12.01 am getting sweaty and hot and it picks up pace and no one has to know because nights like these will last forever yes laying here in your arms for eternity
gone
one day you decided that i was not enough
one day you realised that settling down was not for you.
one day you left
and you never returned

Don't say I didn't try.
I asked you,
you ignored me.
I tried to contact you.
I apologised SO MANY TIMES.
You didn't say a word,
you never replied to my messages.
You think you're the only one who can get *******?
You think you are the only one entitled to that feeling.
That's just who you are.
Selfish
I shall not be wasting my time anymore.
If you wanted to be in my life,
you never would have left.

I've noticed how fragile life is.
Nine months of development in a muscular structure before causing excruciating pain to our host, that being our mothers, and then we torture them some more.
We constantly require attention and when we are teenagers, we're rude to them though honestly, we can't help it. They irk us so much, sometimes.
And then, all it takes is the flick of a knife or, a pulled trigger to end it.
It's so easy.
One simple motion with your hand, and you're a goner.
All that pain, all that time, gone.
In that single motion.
Life is so fragile.
Let's cherish it.

What is life?
I am going to study until I complete university,
after which i will have to get a job and I'll work from 9-5 every single day.
I'll have to pay the bills and on top of that,
I will also be pressured to get married by my parents and what if I have kids?
The responsibility of caring for them is then added on.
After many years,
I retire but by then I'll be in no condition to travel the world or enjoy what is remaining of my life.
Then,
I'll lay in my bed and wait for death.
Is this really what life is supposed to be like?
I don't think so.

Love is like an airplane ride.
It'll take you so high,
you could touch the sky.

However,
love can break your heart.
Into two different parts.

Love can be good.
Love can be bad.
Love can make you happy or sad.

Love is fragile.
For (almost) everything that falls,
breaks.

Wanna see some magic?
Here,
I'll add in a few tags and this poem I spent barely 30 seconds on will trend!


I really dislike this new version of Hello Poetry with the tags and stuff. It's not the website I fell in love with. It's not the website that saved me. It's conforming to mainstream social media.

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

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.

Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe you aren't that bad.
Maybe that was just a one-off incident.
I just don't know.
Through what I saw,
you hate me.
Through your actions today,
you seem to be almost... apologetic.
It can't be,
right.
sigh.
We'll never be friends again.
I'll never have the courage to talk to you and neither will you.
We'll remain like this but,
at least I know you forgive me and I forgive you.

i feel like i'm slipping
melting into the ground
blood and flesh combining with metal concrete plaster
swirling together
stronger better
i want to stand in the wind and watch myself blow away
molecule by molecule
like a dandelion
i'll go to the ocean and sit in the waves
and get washed away
the salt purifies me and i am clean again
stepping into the fire
i watch my flesh fall off my bones
i am finally authentic
maybe i'll just sit in a corner and
watch myself disappear
like the cheshire cat
just like this work
someday i'll embrace my insignificance
and learn to die

Such suffering,
The debt we pay to human guile.
Oh lord, have mercy on our tortured souls as our energy is drained and we feel as though we cannot speak. Tears blur our vision. Our mind goes blank. We are nothing for we are mere mortals. All these numbers and letters mean nothing as I crumble to the ground under the pressure,lost girl, no salvation. Oh lord, have mercy for I am the common sinner. Oh lord have mercy.

I am going to close old doors and open new ones.
I am going to forget about all the hurt.
I am going to forget about all the fake friends.
I am going to severe all ties with my previous class.
See them in corridors?
Who cares.
I choose to ignore and forget that bunch of losers.
I am going to forget the thirst for malicious gossip and rumours.
I am going to forget all the lies I have heard.
Thankfully none of them are going to follow me to my next class.
I'll turn invisible.
Sure, I'll have friends but I do not want attention.
For when you are outspoken,
people will make fun of you.
However,
I am not going to stop being successful.
Even though the most difficult part of success is finding someone who is happy for you.
This is it.
As I forget them,
I feel happier already.
I won't attend any reunions.
This will be a blank part of my history and I like it that way.
This is a new chapter of my life and it will be the best one ever.

music is the way i escape
when the voices are raised and i can't think
and i drown it all out with the music on at full volume
concentrate on the lyrics,
you don't the hear the dysfunction around you.
oblivion by shutting all noise out
pretending it doesn't exist,
shoving it to the back of my mind,
if i can't hear it, it's not real.
let the carefully crafted and polished words of catchy pop songs drown out the raw dripping words being screamed at each other.
music is the way i deal with life

words have never been enough
to convey what's on my mind
i'll never tell you
what you should pay attention to is the pauses
between my fleeting
i'm okays and thank you for askings
if you listened closely
you may have heard
my cries
there is much said in the unspoken
if you looked closely you'd see the red ring around the area just below my elbow
i'd fallen asleep at my desk again
thinking
sobbing- that's something you'd have noticed if you saw the puffiness of my eyes
then you'd know i cried this morning too
you'd know that my smile
was a mere facade
and if you'd understood that
and if you listened close to my heart's thump
then you would have noticed the hum of suicidal thoughts running through my veins
coursing through my very being
feeding into every cell
ringing in my ears
like a mantra
like a death march

One of my deepest worries is if anyone will ever love me.
If anyone will ever want to date or marry me?
I can't imagine anyone ever worrying if I will go out with them or,
if I will marry them.
I can't imagine anyone wanting to get to know me better.
I can't imagine anyone having a crush on me.
I can't imagine anyone looking at me and thinking,
"****, that girl is beautiful"
I can't.
Sometimes I wonder if I can't imagine these things because they will never happen.

I forgive too easily.
That's my fatal flaw.
After all you have done to me,
I still forgive you.
Why?
I try to convince myself that I hate you.
That you aren't worth my forgiveness.
Yet,
my heart goes ahead and whispers from the chasms of my body.
"It's okay, forgive her."
And I foolishly do.

It's always my fault,
isn't it?
She just sits on her laptop the whole day and I help out with the chores and,
it's my fault.
It's my fault for making an attempt to be less rude to you while she screams in your face.
It's my fault for studying harder than her so I top the class while she barely passes.
It's my fault.
It always is.
I don't even know why I wrote this.
I can't change anything by writing poems and that,
will be my fault as well.
*It always is