look at my back
watch me as i try to walk
notice how i hardly move

how i have to painfully drag my feet
share the ground the blisters as a secret


look at my back
how i carry my bones
how i silent the creaks

the breaking sounds, the irony smells
now i let them out


look at my back
watch me as i leave the room
listen as i slam the door

unhear the voices
unsmell the scents


look at my back
for the first, the last time
watch me as i hope for the best

my back soon glued inside
an open casket

Listen the unspoken words
Your heart whisper
The tender message it keeps
Before it's too late,

Don't wait for the perfect time
For it has never arrived
Today is all we own
Speak up! Before it's too late,

Show them you love
Show them you care
Coz there's nothing worse
Than being late!

                         -Mahima Goel

Skin laid bare, heart caged up.

We were told to feel,
But shut up.

We were told to do well,
But to keep quiet our skill.

We were told to live,
But given no life.

We are the new soldiers.

Our weapons are our words,
Our mind the ammunition.

We wage a war.

We are the most effective army,
for we will all **** ourselves.

Our battle will have no survivors,
But will be in no books.

There is a special place in history for us,
Outside it.

We will all be remembered but never spoken of.

We were not there at the start,
nor will we be at the end.

No one remembers the middle.

We are the new soldiers.

Skin
               Laid
                              Bare
                         ­                      Heart
                         Caged
       Up

Eat not my Brother
For though his skin is darker than mine
His tears are no less salty
Nor is his laughter less sweet

Eat not my brother
Treat him not unlike a man
For though we are not alike on the outside
Humanity is not only skin deep

When I sleep
a wind blows
over strange lands
I don't know
and I feel like a lamp
a stranger is holding up
looking for a way
through a dark field
I will walk through.

It's not easy
trying to decide
on whether to run
or whether to hide.

Because she's a storm,
a torrent of sorts,
and I'm terrified of
falling overboard.