somedays i hate people around me
and somedays i hate myself be
am i the problem or is it the world i see
suffocating people pretending to set them free
what is it? this thought keeps me awake
in my turbulent turmoil do i shake
because loving him isn't getting me anywhere
but putting a lock on my emotions isn't fair
since i want to be different, a good human
great and perfect who's too busy to have fun,
is working hard to become successful and no. 1
a product of pain who chose to become better like the sun
but i fail everydamnday, everydamnway
by expecting too much from my battered body, which isn't ohkay
i think too much, act too little
fracturing my feelings, my heart so brittle
it's not good to be this person that i am
breathing in order to make everything work a/c to my meticulous plan
but **** if i know what's right or wrong anymore
i am exhausted to my very core
the sad part is that i'm nowhere closer to what i want
and this doesn't let me sleep, every night this haunts
yet i lay in my bed, wasting away day after day
and i have no words left to say
i can't die but i ain't living either
i am pathetic, i know thats what you think reader
my past holds on to me so strongly that i play it on loop
the future makes me anxious, so in my eyes do i stoop
be the same old dumb ****** that i have always been
my potential dying before it could ever be seen
just crossing out dates on my phone's ******* calendar
wrong profession, wrong attitude, wrong is my ******* gender

i am at a bad place right now
don't ask me when where or how
i wish i could ask how you are
about your journey and your scars
but if i open that door to you again
i guess all i will cause is pain
what if i only want to talk for a day
and then be okay going our separate ways
i am pretty needy, hormonal you could say
so with our minds i wouldn't play
be wise and never respond or initiate
and be not fine with all the wait
for all i am and all i will ever be
is ******* .l.o.n.e.l.y.

I wondered one day;
As on the grass I lay,
Why do I play-
With words this way?

The ladybird that sat on my nose,
The dew drops wetting my toes,
Inspire the sentences to dance as I close-
My eyes, why do I end up forming a prose?

Then I sit up straight,
Bending under the weight;
Of the rhymes that skate-
In my brain, at this fast rate!

My fingers itch for me to write,
To allow this impending insight;
Come out of my core with all its might;
And help me unburden and feel light!

I look for a piece of paper,
And a pen to build my skyscraper;
That will reach the sky like water vapour,
And contribute to form a rainbow sometime later!

The rain that poured on that day;
Made the trees wet and the leaves sway.
I stood under the shed behind the school,
Waiting for the drops to fade and wind to cool.
I shivered as the air blew my hair;
I trembled as the sounds sounded to scare.
And then when my eyes figured out a figure by my side,
My heart beat in my mouth and forced me to hide.
I squealed, I screamed, I stayed shut and tried,
To think and believe that my mind had lied.

But then he came closer and looked at me,
With an intensity that set my spirit free.
I lost the ability to form words and phrases,
I wondered was he a ghost that chases?
Because, if that were true,
I won't be able to run a step or few.
But then he opened his mouth;
And then I heard a voice that made all my blood run south!

'Its not safe to be alone in here,
The shed is haunted and you should fear'
I looked at him with both amusement and awe;
And pondered how beautiful he looked from where I saw!
Call me stupid or whatever you want reader,
Because he scared me to death not moments ago- but now was my fantasy feeder!

I took a breath and shook my head,
"I am not afraid of you"- is what I said.
He smiled an evil smile and held out his hand,
With shaky fingers I raised mine to land,
On his palm that looked so strong;
Only when I couldn't feel it- I felt something was wrong!
I looked up and found those irises piercing mine,
With all my might I fought to be fine.

i always thought those books that i read
in lover's conflicts and wars they dealt
meant something beyond these images in my head
meant more than mere novels, something the poets felt
but oh boy, was i terribly wrong
i made my own suffering prolong,
i ain't the "forever" material or ****,
simply a means to an end is what fits,
i will never be nobody's moon or stars
because i am adorned with scars
given by life, it's people and it's maker
all through these 22 years of being a waker
rejected, dejected and an outcast at it's best
i ain't special but simply different from the rest
a fool i have been all along, believing it was my superpower
oh good lord, i was simpy never on anybody radar
the unlikable, unwanted and unlovable soul
who had no poise, passion or a gritty goal
i have been loitering in delusion, hallucinating the impossible
all the while i have done nothing but been an imbecile
i maybe good but never great
in the world of curves, a definite straight
being humble was my only shot at becoming better
but in the end, it got me to this point where i am typing this letter by letter
all i am is a wishful thinker who lives in the world of imagination
a dull, boring kid trapped in an adult's body and adaptation
a stupid girl who is the easiest of all
an ugly-hearted, too trusting of a call
i am pathetic, the dumbest being to ever grace this planet
as useless and replaceable as the middle of a magnet

after reading thousands of pages dipped in love
words formed from bleeding ink yet it isn't enough
for me to formulate something of my own
all these fearsome feelings i wish to set in stone
the rise in my pulse on seeing him, the smile that touches my lips
the way he looks at me from far, his hand in mine- grazing my fingers tips
i wish i could tell you how this is making my mind churn
the want i feel for him and how this desire makes me burn
but i belive the hopeless romantic in me took it's last breath
and i killed it while it laid on it's death bed
so i stay with it's memories and corpse
suffering day and night with my writer's block
nothing inspires me anymore
maybe filling in the blanks satisfies the core?
so i believe that the best poems spring from the worst heartbreaks
beacuse being in love isn't what that makes
me pick my pen up and write my heart down
to make my poetry the talk of the town!

you look at me like you want me
but you never say a word, simply see
your eyes do a tour but never dip too low
very gentlemanly of you or is it just for show?
because i have heard your tales, your reputation precedes
the list of your conquests is what that impedes
me from obsessing over your veiny arms and full lips
making me crave your body, from toes to finger tips
because i know where your hands have been
who warmed your bed and how you left her cold
girl after girl has exited your door, i have seen
and yet, you think it's your face that i want to hold?
i might have episodes of self-destruction but i have more than two brain cells
i know that you aren't an angel who fell
you're a devil who seems to want a piece of me now
but letting a man take me for granted is something i can't allow
so what that your piercing gaze makes me wet
it's not a good enough reason for me to let
you touch me there where i ache for your expertise
i am self-sufficient to make myself relieved
but somedays it's a little difficult to get you out of my head
because it's your soul that i see instead
of a guy who simply wants to blow his load
but you're a risky bet that i can't afford
so stop looking at me like you want something from me
because honestly, i am pretty weak
i will succumb to my ***** demons soon
~you're a bane so why are you pretending to be my boon?

you look at me like you want something from me
but wonder i, what possibly could it be
for i have nothing to offer you
neither a sentence nor words a few
then why do your eyes burn holes into mine
searching for what lies deep inside
i cannot fathom the depths of your obsession
burning so bright with an everlasting passion
you're my poison, you will be the death of me
and so wonder i, why do you look at me like you want a broken piece like me

often wonder i how would it feel
when my cut open wrists would bleed
saving me from taking the next breath,
i happily choose the easiest of death!
because living is a chore i cannot do
everything's black, devoid of a hue!

yet a part of me wishes to be found
hearing me out when i suffer without a sound

helping me come back from this dark deep hole
and make me acquainted with my spirited soul

for i know there's a part of me that wants to survive
a beating heart and bruised body still wanting to thrive

a little push to pull me from the edge
a shoulder to lean on is all i fetch

somebody, anybody to shake some sane sense into me
when the noose around my neck constricts tightly

i wish i could just speak whatever is bottled within
and maybe that could save me from committing this sin

but who? how? when? and what? could help this failing will
a person, a parent, a sign or a shrink would help me before i ****?
or is there one another being who'll be there?
-the one standing behind the mirror with a sanguine stare

From the tender age of twelve

I've found refuge in a bookshelf

In a story I would delve,

To be totally myself.


From pride to prejudice

All I found was bliss,

That I forgot all the facades

Of their judgemental shades.



I was the "different" kid

In the crowd I hid,

Escaping the reality in fiction

I lived in the story-depiction.


I was a misfit

For I was built

Of

A soul so shattered

A heart bitterly battered

Thoughts totally tattered

Words wisely clattered;


Tagged as the "******"

I faked bravado

And each day

Until I found my way

And be completely okay

Did I say-

"I am me

and me being me

makes me happy

putting this into poetry

is my way of therapy,

for I choose to be free

in all my oddity,

for I choose to be free

in all my oddity"