Oh no!
I have just been diagnosed,
With a case of Extreme Stupidity,
My doctor says its probably terminal,
But with advanced methods and invasive procedures,
My chances of survival,
Are, at best, hopeless,
With proper treatment,
And a well-balanced diet,
I should be able to overcome the side-effects of the medication and therapies afforded by the state-run institutions,
And return to a 'normal and happy stupidless life'
There is no family history of this disorder,
But ten-out-of-twelve succumb to it,
So he says,
As I try and do the math,
The manifestation of this illness becomes clear,
Ten of twelve is equal to...umm...let's see...if there were one hundred...divided by...umm...okay wait...say we had twelve...or no ten...hold on...let's round this up to the nearest number...what is thirteen..dividing it by eleven...when chances are...2:1...is that what he said? Oh ****! I am terminal...minus 1.

There was once, a girl called Srividya
who ended conversations with a "see yea"
and sometimes with, "Don't wanna be yea"
but had a gentle heart like Mamma mia!


She took it in her head to write
which gave her friends a fright
But, vidya in her heart, was tight
to somehow pour her mind and write


Words from her heart, upon the paper, fell
they came in a tumble; they came pell-mell
when they fell in place, her story, they did tell
and those read said in their hearts, Aawll eezz well!!!


A persistent Vidya never gave up hope
and found some more, when she ran out of rope
She took inspiration from the divine Pope
and in her works, introduced a little operaish soap


Day after day, dawn after dawn
Little srividya wrote like a fawn
She said to herself, lighting the midnight candle on
'Course you can write; you just need to COME ON!


For her words, she used the iambic pentameter
But her cruel friends said, "eyyy, podhum paa peter!"
Her consistent efforts bore fruit; her blog was published
seeing her beautiful works see the light of day, she felt accomplished


Oh you might wonder, what does this tale tell
what is the idea, I'm trying to sell
without much ado, let me just say
A little encouragement goes a long way!

Breathe
Find your voice
It's why you're
Here
In this place
A place of
Crossing
Between two roads
The dark and the
Light
Filters through old
Yellowed parchment paper
As
She sings her song
Filled with longing and
Loss
Is not hard to master
Or so I'm told by
You
Begin with a little then
Let your loss grow on
Regret
Fills her gentle heart as
He fills the rest of her body
With
Himself, not intentionally, but
Only because that is what he
Wants
Drive us to the brink of sanity and
Throw us into pits of
Guilt
Eats away all that she
Is to become
She
Falls into a black cave
She cannot fall out of
But
She is not yours
She
Belongs only to herself
Not to what you think
Of
Her eyes burn with hate as
They scream in her ears
Chanting
You are not one, not one
You are not a part of
This
World is poisoned by
Smiles and laughter
Laced
With deceit and degradation
To its innermost core
It
Makes the stuff
Of our worst
Nightmares
Run rampant in her childlike mind
For she knows not who she
Is
There a reason for her isolation
A reason for her constant
Loneliness
Will not be the end of me
I will not lose myself
I am stronger than
Anything
Say anything
To let me have hope
That I am who I want to
Be
What you are, I
Will be who I am and
No one
Will ever bring me
Down
In the darkest pits of
My blessed Hell
The
Only thing I see
Is a beautiful, cursed, face,
You
Ohhh, yes, my darling, I
Love you too

if it is not
my thoughts
that float through my brain-
it is the isolation
that drives me insane