“Be yourself,”
But then they tell me to change.
“Be unique,”
But then they frown down on all my differences.
“Don’t conform,”
But then they force me to follow their standards.
“Always love yourself,”
But then they call me narcissist and arrogant.
“Be kind,”
But then they tell me to stop being fake.
“Just relax,”
But then they call me lazy.
“Work harder,”
But then they call me too uptight.
“Money can’t buy happiness,”
But then they laugh at me for not being rich.
“Weight doesn’t matter,”
But then they tell me I’m not skinny enough.
“Enjoy being young while you can,”
But then they tell me to grow up.
“It’s okay to be sad,”
But then they tell me other people have it worse.
“Do what you love,”
But then they tell me I’ll never be successful.
“You’ll be okay,”
But then they leave me for someone else.
“It will get better,”
But then they tell me that I’m being overdramatic.
“Be yourself,”
But I no longer know who that is.

you know me—
the ins and outs of my soul,
the fibres of my body;
what makes me squirm,
what makes me scream;
you know anything and everything
i could ever want someone to know,
and help me know more.

you see me for me,
not some broken parts—
and for that?
i could never love you more

bruises,
black and blue—
bitten into skin;
a drunken mistake?
or a sign of things to come?

you saved my life,
many a time;
told me no,
held my hand,
walked me through—
you always made sure i was alright,
and kept watching

just like me,
you never stopped watching

a house is not a home
my home is with those who love me,
and you clearly don't
i am leaving;
i will miss you,
but not enough to come back.
you are nothing to me anymore,
as i am done with your lies

Busy hands.
I don’t know
Sorrow is so much more glamorous
Than obsolete joy