I was talking to my friend who “self loves” himself.
I asked him, why’d you do something like that to yourself?
He didn’t reply but showed me the self-made stretch marks.

I tried to ask him again (but this time hugging him and comforting him on my shoulder) “in no time he started giggling but my t-shirt soaked wet.

I asked him again “what have you done to yourself?”

He finally replies “it’s for deviating.”

Such an obscure answer, I know right.
But I wasn’t in his shoes.
He was a loner, a saddened person, listens to Taylor Swift, writes poetry to let it out. I don’t think he was someone alike.

Things were still unclear but it was late at night
It was getting dark and i felt uneasy around graves at night.

Its been 9 months and you’re back like a newborn baby,
Paid 3500 to exorcise you out my body,
To find the right key to open the door for you.

Not that It matters now.

Welcome back, anxiety.
Didn’t Expect you back so soon
Should I start from how have you been
Oh, I see you’ve settled in.

So much to tell you
Just knock on my door if you’re free
Oh I see how you’ve started unpacking the essential needs
I see trauma, I see bleeding too.
I see insecurities and my old friend overthinking too.
Welcome back I guess

Like last time,
perhaps this is for the best.

A link to tap, a signature to lend.
Do you think a house filled with old people care what you sign up for?
#notallofthem

Don’t objectify me on this.
Because, I’m tired of the same.
I see, hear and go through the same things.

I live a little far, but I see them all.
I appreciate your effort, you can keep posting as much and so much.

Don’t follow my faith, I’m ****** up.
Tried changing things failed every-time,
So please, Let me be.

But listen we are the system,
we are so is the system.

Irony as i put it
we are responsible for the things that are being done
far from our home,
or in our neighbourhood
or to our neighbour
or in our own home.

Bleed words on platform, at this crooked age you have all the rights.
But when you’ll grow up you’ll find the fault and it’ll be in you.

Blame this culture or that culture,
My culture or yours.
You’ll live around 50 and die.
Unless, you are in a hurry.

Waking up with the power to acquire the success I ran behind,
My head starts to spin as soon as I hit my bed empty-handed.

I ate my feeling away,
Digested the food but not the emotions.
Punched my stomach, just to stop my hunger.

My state of mind died,
while I counted the calories I consumed.

I lost nine kgs but I'm still sad.
Maybe my body wasn't the problem all along.
Maybe it was me, not accepting myself,
Whilst accepting people who really didn't care.

But I'm ready to break my boundaries.
I'm ready to grow and not just belong.

Dear trust...
This poem is for you.

I want to apologise,
for the mess, you've turned out to be.

Loved a person, but got rejected
surrounded by friends, but always got pelted.
Threw your best-friend for money,
building a body to look like a ******.

Ask yourself, are you happy?
Or faking to become manly...

Despite that, I gave you time and space.
You have stayed in my mind.
Rent-less and relentless to come out.
Waited for this phase to end, so I can embrace...

I forgive you.
For the monster, you’ve created.
Don't worry, I have trained it.
He's calm and chained.
Under control yet free,
something you can never be...

I know superheroes with real powers are a myth.
But I think you are gifted with creating pain for the people you love.

Though you didn’t love me
But always left me,
mad, sad and depressed.
And In distress, while studying for my exams

I cursed you for a very long time.
But 𝒩𝑜𝓌 your memories burned for the
𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒...

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived