I’m done, I say, and they reply,
"You’ve lost, you’re wrong, don’t ask me why."
But I’m not wrong, not in my soul,
I’m wrong because they say I’m not whole.

Right and wrong don’t come from me,
They come from what the crowd can see.
If they think I’m wrong, then that’s my fate,
Not because I’ve failed, but because they dictate.

I’m not wrong by what’s true,
I’m wrong by what they believe is due.
It’s not about what’s really right,
It’s about who holds the power in sight.

So when I say I’m done, it’s clear—
Not because I lost, but because I fear
That right and wrong are just what they decide,
Not what’s real, but what they hide.

My dad, with his voice so loud and firm,
Taught me life’s lessons, through each turn.
He made sure I was alive and well,
Even when others wished I’d dwell in hell.

With every harsh word, a truth would bloom,
A lesson in kindness, through every boom.
Blunt and clear, with a joke on the side,
He taught me the balance of strength and pride.

It took me years to catch on and see,
How much of him lived inside of me.
His dark humor, his grit, his view,
Now echoes in everything I do.

I used to believe in "an eye for an eye,"
A way of getting back, or asking why.
But my mom showed me, with quiet grace,
That kindness doesn’t have to leave a trace.

"Be nice, no matter what they do,"
She said, “You hold the power, it's up to you."
To rise above the hurt and the pain,
And let love and strength break every chain.

Together, they shaped who I’ve become,
Blending their wisdom into what I’ve done.
A blend of strength and compassion’s hue,
Their love, a guide for all I pursue.

I’ve got half a life to take their lead,
To turn their choices into my creed.
And in their legacy, I will find my own,
Growing in ways that I've always known.

I once would say, with eager pride,
"I now know this," with truth as guide.
But then I learned, with quiet grace,
To keep those words from taking place.

For when I know, I need not shout,
Or speak aloud, or cast it out.
The knowing stays, just soft, just still,
No need to flaunt, no need to fill.

So now I know, and yet refrain,
From saying “I know” in vain.
And knowing this, I now can say,
I know not to say “I know” today.

For wisdom comes, not in the voice,
But in the silence, in the choice—
To simply know, and let it be,
No need for words to set it free.

And so it goes, in quiet flow,
I now know more than I did know.
But saying it? I’ll let it slide,
For knowing’s peace is found inside.

When a child’s words sting, or their silence speaks,
A parent feels it, deep and weak.
Not out of ego, not just to fight,
But because their love runs through every night.

In every smile or tear that falls,
A parent’s heart responds, it calls—
For in the child, their legacy grows,
And every action, every blow,
Feels personal, like a mirror's face,
Reflecting their own heart’s embrace.

For biologically, the pulse runs strong,
A tie that’s ancient, deep, and long.
To protect, to guide, to make them whole,
They take it all—each bruise, each toll.

It’s instinctive, this bond they wear,
Like an armor, woven with care.
When the child stumbles, or turns away,
A parent feels it, night and day.

Not out of anger, but out of need,
To nurture, to shelter, to help them succeed.
For every moment, small or great,
The parent's heart just cannot wait—
To take it personal, because they see
That the child’s world is part of me.

I used to drift through days unseen,
A ghost within the world’s routine.
Invisible, I walked the line,
A shadow cast in real-time.

No one could touch, no one could know,
A flicker where the air would flow.
I’d smile, but my grin was lost,
I’d speak, but no one paid the cost.

Then something changed, a shift so slight,
Now I'm transparent in the light.
Not hidden, but clear as glass,
My edges sharp, no need to mask.

It’s funny, right? The shift so true—
Invisible to see right through.
I once was lost, now I’m too clear,
But still, they stare and never cheer.

Invisible and transparent, so weird—
One to vanish, one to appear.
But in this space, I stand alone,
Both seen and unseen, unknown, yet known.

This year has been hell,
A storm I can’t outrun,
But worse than the fire,
Is the damage I’ve done.
I’ve hurt those I love,
In ways I can’t undo,
And every regret
Feels heavier than truth.
I never meant to cause pain,
Yet I’ve left scars that won’t fade,
And now I’m haunted by faces
Of the hearts I betrayed.
If I could take it back,
Undo every wrong,
I’d do it in a heartbeat,
To right what’s been so long.
For in this year of chaos,
The hardest truth I’ve found—
Is that the hell I’ve lived through
Is nothing when I’ve let others drown.

You can walk away from the weight of a class,
Leave behind the deadlines, the papers you pass.
Quit a job that drains, its hours too long,
Find a new path where you’ll feel strong.

You can abandon the dreams that no longer fit,
Let go of the pieces that don't truly sit.
But there's one thing you must never forsake—
The love that surrounds you, the bonds you make.

The people you’ve chosen, the ones by your side,
They’re your anchor, your reason, your guide.
In their hearts, you find what keeps you alive,
And with them, you’re stronger, together you thrive.

So go ahead, release the burdens you hold,
But don’t let the ones who matter turn cold.
They need you, and you need them too,
In the dance of life, they’re your rhythm, your hue.

Life may change, but these truths remain:
You are not alone, through joy and pain.
So choose wisely, and stay true,
To the ones who’ve chosen to walk with you.

I once believed I could ascend,
Like Nina's wings, my world to mend.
But failure came, a quiet thief,
Stealing dreams and sowing grief.
Now I stand in shadows deep,
Pretending that I never weep,
A narcissist, I wear a smile,
Wading through my own denial.
I tell myself, “I never cared—
Success was never what I bared.”
But deep inside, I twist the tale,
A story where my heart prevails.
Like sour grapes upon the vine,
I tell the world it’s fine, it's fine—
I didn't want the shining prize,
Just the freedom to despise.
I paint my death as noble grace,
A perfect end, a proud embrace.
A story crafted, sharp and sleek,
To hide the truth I dare not speak.
For Nina's tale is mine to tell—
A myth I forged to shield my shell,
Where failure’s sting is sweetly spun,
A victory I've already won.

I know I should leave, I know it's right,
But I’m too scared to face the fight.
So I push them away, I start the game,
Hoping they’ll leave, and I won’t take the blame.

I’m not strong enough to walk away,
So I make them leave, so I can stay.
I start the fights, I turn it cold,
I need them gone, so I don’t feel bold.

I know I should go, I know it’s true,
But I can’t find the strength to be through.
So I make them the ones to break,
Leaving me no choice but to fake.

I push, I hurt, I make them doubt,
So they’ll leave first, and I’ll be shut out.
It’s easier to make them run,
Than to be the one who’s finally done.

I know it's right, to end this here,
But I can’t face the pain or the fear.
So I make them leave, so they’re the ones,
To walk away when the battle’s won.

I can't let go, I can’t take the step,
So I make sure they leave me, with no regret.
I scare them off, I push them away,
So they leave me no choice, but to stay.

All my friends are parents now,
Talking of toddlers, teething, and how
Their little ones laugh, cry, and grow,
While I still speak of my parents—though
I’m grown, or so I’m told,
But to me, I’m always their child, still bold.

They share stories of school drops and sports,
Of tantrums and bedtime, of funny reports.
I nod, smile, and keep the pace,
But when I speak, I’m still in that place—
Where I talk about mom’s cooking,
Dad’s advice, and the way they’re looking.

I’m the one who’s not yet in the game,
But somehow, it’s all the same—
I tell them about the way I’m loved,
Like I’m still tucked in, safe, and snug.
They've got kids who run wild and free,
But I just need my parents, you see.

And maybe it’s a little odd,
To still crave their warmth like a child’s nod.
But in their eyes, I’ll always be
That little one who seeks the key
To their soft voices, steady hands,
To the place where no grown-up stands.

My cousins sigh, “Oh no, all my friends have husbands,”
They long for that love, the rings and the "musts."
They talk about weddings, the dresses, the plans,
As if love’s a prize that slips through their hands.

But here I stand with a grin on my face,
“Oh no,” I say, “All my crushes are placed—
With wives, with partners, with lives so complete,
It’s like every cute guy’s already off the street!”

They dream of the future, of rings on their hands,
But I’m just over here, in my own little lands.
I’m not chasing husbands, or marriage in sight,
I just want the thrill, the joy, the light.

They hope for a "he" to call their own,
But I’ve learned that I’m better off alone.
My crushes, they’re taken—oh, what a sight,
But I’m free, I’m fine, and I’m holding it tight.

So while they wish for what others have found,
I’m happy to wander, not tied to the ground.
“Wives and husbands?” they cry with despair—
But I laugh, “Oh, that’s just not my affair!”

I don’t crave the ordinary, the average, the plain,
The mundane, the usual, they drive me insane.
I’m drawn to the edges, the things they call taboo,
To love that’s forbidden, to passions that brew.

A life that’s exciting, not stuck in a rut,
I need the unexpected, the thrill in the cut.
I’m not tied down by what they all say,
No marriage, no norms, no rules that weigh.

I’m glad I’m not bound by tradition’s tight grip,
I’ve sailed far from that sinking ship.
The world may label me wild, strange, or insane,
But I find beauty in breaking the chain.

I’d never have an affair, that’s not my style,
But I admire the boldness, the daring, the guile.
Marilyn Monroe, a woman untamed,
She lived outside rules, her own name reclaimed.

I don’t need the ordinary, the plain, or the same,
I crave something different, I live without shame.
In my own space, I’m free and I roam,
Not trapped by the normal, I’ve made my own home.

So let them call me what they will,
I’m not chasing the ordinary, I’m chasing the thrill.
I’m not bound by their rules, their eyes, their views,
I’ll keep living loud, with nothing to lose.

They say getting older is something to dread,
Women my age, with worry and dread.
“Thirty’s too old,” they whisper, they cry,
Afraid to let go of the years that fly by.

But I don’t feel fear, I don’t feel that weight,
I’m happy to age, I don’t share their hate.
They worry about wrinkles, about slowing the pace,
But I’ve kept something pure no one can erase.

A childlike joy, a spark in my soul,
A sense of wonder, a heart that’s whole.
No matter the years, no matter the line,
I’ll always have that innocence, that light so divine.

They’re mad about time, about getting too old,
But I don’t see aging as something to scold.
I’ve lived with a spirit no age can confine,
I’m happy to grow, I’m happy to shine.

“Too old,” they say, as if it’s a crime,
But I don’t let those words steal my time.
I’ll smile through the years, keep dancing in place,
For no one can steal my joy, my grace.

So let them be angry, let them complain,
I’ll embrace every year, I’ll stand in the rain.
Age doesn’t change the light that I hold,
It just makes me stronger, it makes me more bold.

I’m not afraid of the years, not at all,
I’m happy to age, to stand tall.
And no one can take my innocence away,
Not with their “too old” or their bitter dismay.

I have no life, and so I live,
I don't pretend, I don’t forgive
The lie that "having a life" means cheer,
That building walls will make it clear
That happiness is something earned,
A prize to seek, a truth unturned.

While others rush to craft new plans,
To build their worlds in shifting sands,
They think they live, they think they’ve won,
But I know better—I'm not one
To build a life just to disguise
The aching truth that lies inside.

They chase the glitter, race the clock,
With therapy, friends, the endless talk,
They distract themselves from real despair,
While I sit still and breathe the air—
The truth that stings, the pain that’s real,
The world that doesn't care or heal.

In not engaging, I find a peace,
In silence, there’s a sweet release.
By doing nothing, I face it all,
And see the world for what’s its call.
The “life” they seek is just a lie,
A way to hide from truth, to try
And fill the gaps, to mask the ache—
But in the void, there’s no mistake.

I am alive in doing none,
I see the world as it’s undone.
While others “live,” they simply hide,
Building lives that sweep aside
The raw, the real, the truths we face—
But I’m content in empty space.

It started with ankles, then knees, then thighs,
A modest approach, where fabric complied.
Long sleeves, long skirts, and hems to the floor,
Clothing had purpose—what else could it be for?

Then slowly, the hemlines crept up the legs,
Skirts turned to shorts, but who’s counting the dregs?
Sleeves shrank to straps, collars lost their place,
And fashion just kept up the rapid pace.

The waistline dropped, the cuts got more daring,
Backs, shoulders, and sides—nothing left for sparing.
Tops got shorter, skirts didn’t exist,
The more we revealed, the more we missed.

And then the dressmakers said, “Now what?”
Just how much less could we possibly plot?

Nine years of waiting, of staying in place,
A decade of time that has no clear trace.
Unseen, unheard, just existing, I breathe—
The years have piled up, and still, I don’t leave.

The questions come easy, but answers come slow,
"Do you cook? Do you travel? Where do you go?"
I smile, I shrug, I say "No" and pretend,
As if answers can fix it, as if it will end.

The silence gets louder with every year passed,
The hope of it changing grows brittle, not fast.
Once, there were problems, small ones to face—
Now, all I have is this still, empty space.

But I hide, I don’t speak, I don’t share,
Pretend it’s all fine, like I’m unaware.
But deep inside, I know it’s worse now,
I missed the old days, but I don’t know how.

Because somehow, it feels like I’m fighting the tide,
Like the weight of my years is pulling me wide.
I’m 30, they say, as if it should sting,
But I’ve learned to find strength in this untold thing.

This is the greatest challenge I’ve ever known,
Not the worst, but the fight that I own.
The struggle inside is mine and mine alone,
And I carry it proudly, though I'm often unknown.

They say time will heal, but I think that’s a lie—
It’s the fight, not the healing, that gets you to fly.
I don’t know the answer, but this I believe:
The greatest of challenges are ones you can’t leave.

So here's to nine years, and the decade to come,
I’ll keep facing this battle, even if I’m numb.
The world may not see, but I’ll carry it still,
A story of resilience, and an unbroken will.

The first time love slipped from my grip,
It wasn’t just my heart that fell,
I dropped out of school, lost in the drift,
A double hit — a painful spell.

Books left unfinished, dreams put on pause,
The weight of both heartbreak and choice,
All at once, a silence that gnaws,
And my future lost its voice.

But then, in time, a love took root,
A first real bond that felt so true,
And with it, came a moment so absolute —
Graduation day, the sky so blue.

I stood tall, with love by my side,
Joy and pride where sadness once lay,
A new chapter, with hope as my guide,
A heart now healed, ready to sway.

The first heartbreak, the first love,
A time of loss, a time of gain,
One took me down, the other above,
Both shaping me, through joy and pain.

Other people say wrong, and I say right,
They see darkness, I bask in the light.
They say bad, I say good,
I stand firm, misunderstood.

They say sad, I say glad,
I find joy when they feel bad.
Like Alma Filcott, I wear my grin,
When the world’s frown pulls me in.

You can't make me happy,
While making them all feel the same.
I don’t need your cheer,
To play the happiness game.

For I know my joy is mine to keep,
In a world where others weep.
So let them grumble, let them sigh,
I’ll stay true, with my head held high.

They seek answers, I seek peace,
While they fret, I find release.
For my joy is my own to own,
And it grows when I stand alone.

They ask if I'm okay,
As if they have the right to say,
To meddle in the life I lead,
And offer up their “helpful” creed.

“Get a job,” they tell me, “just a start,”
“Go to therapy, fix your heart.”
But once I do, they criticize,
For not working enough or working with lies.

They judge my struggle, my poverty’s weight,
Then blame me when I can’t articulate,
What’s wrong, what’s right, what’s left to fix—
Though they never showed me how to speak those tricks.

They say, "Just enjoy, live with ease,"
But how can they know what brings me peace?
They can't read my mind, can't see my soul,
And yet, they think they know me whole.

If only they could see, like Truman’s show,
All my thoughts, all the places I go,
Maybe then they'd understand,
That I don’t need their hand.

I solve my own, no need to explain,
In the end, there’s no real pain.
I am okay, always was,
No problem here, just because.

Some say they would have reached the stars,
If only someone had pushed them far.
But my dad, Chris, Elle, and I—
We had no hands to lift us high.
In fact, we had the weight of doubt,
People pulling us, trying to block us out.

Yet, there was something we could feel,
A spark inside that made us real—
A force so deep, it lit our way,
It’s what kept us moving, day by day.

My dad found joy in Uncle's smile,
Chris in a man with a car so wild.
Elle found strength in love once lost,
And I, too, found a muse at a cost.

It wasn’t the push that made us rise,
It was the spark that opened our eyes.
For when you're inspired, you find your power,
And nothing can take it in your darkest hour.

No pull, no doubt, no cruel dismissal—
An inspiration is far more official.
Stronger than forces that try to control,
It lifts the spirit, it fuels the soul.

Do I like dogs?
Well, it depends, you see,
On the dog, on the cat,
On the way they greet me.

Some dogs are sweet,
Others are loud and strong,
Some cats are distant,
Others purr all day long.

I like them all, I guess,
But birds speak to my heart,
Their songs, their wings,
They’re a world apart.

But if you ask,
"Do you like people too?"
My answer is simple:
No, not really—few.

I need to know the animal,
The way they move,
Their moods, their quirks,
Before I can approve.

So I’m a dog person,
But not in the broadest sense,
I’m a bird person at heart,
And a creature’s best friend—
When they make sense.

A warm shower, soft and kind,
Wraps around me, peace of mind.
Steam rises, whispers slow,
A gentle hug, where time lets go.
The water’s touch, like hands so dear,
That soothe away the aches and fear.
It murmurs comfort, lulls me near,
A tender hold that’s always here.
Each drop a kiss, a soft caress,
I stand within its sweet embrace,
And in this warmth, I find my place,
A quiet heart, a calm, sweet space.
The world outside may rush and fight,
But in this warmth, all feels just right.
A shower, yes, but more, it seems—
A loving hug, a place for dreams.

Oh, how the alphabet wove us close,
For you, dear soul, share my first,
A mirror to my name, both letters in the air—
I find in this coincidence, something pure, something rare.
Handsome in every way, with elegance in your stride,
Your clothes mirror your charm, with taste as your guide,
You glide through life with effortless grace,
A true reflection of style, in both heart and face.
With wisdom in your words, a guide in strife,
Qualified to offer counsel, your voice so clear—
How I’ve often turned to it, when I needed to hear.
Your voice, how it resonates, so smooth and rich,
Like a melody that makes my heart twitch,
And oh, the teasing—how I adore the jest,
When you make fun of me, I feel truly blessed.
Like Marion lost in dreams that blur,
I talk to you in silence, though you're far,
Not here in body, but in thoughts you stay,
A constant companion, night or day.
And oh, I wish for the moment—
Your wedding day, your joy to share,
To be invited to that sacred space,
To witness love, to see your face.
But more than just to witness, oh how I yearn,
To sing at your sangeet, as the music swirls,
To celebrate your happiness, to honor your name,
As your life, your love, ignites its flame.
So here's to you, the one with my name's start,
Who fills my heart, who stays in my heart,
Though time may pass, this wish remains—
To be there for you, through joy, through pains.

Thank you, Amma, for the gift of this world,
For cradling me close as my dreams unfurled.
You brought me here to the best of all places,
A journey I take with your love in my traces.

And Dad, you’re a beacon, a guiding star bright,
Through laughter and lessons, through day and through night.
Half your age, yet your wisdom is vast,
I treasure each moment, I hold it fast.

To my parents who’ve made sure I stay afloat,
With love that’s unwavering, they keep me from the moat.
Rent paid and worries held at bay,
In the warmth of your care, I’m okay every day.

Though "flirty" is distant, I’m not feeling blue,
At thirty, I’m thriving, just being true.
Single, but never alone in this life,
For I’m surrounded by family, not burdened with strife.

This ****** Going on 30 feels just right,
For the journey ahead is a radiant sight.
Not a party of one, but a circle so wide,
With you all by my side, I’m forever fortified.

Thank you, my family, for being my core,
For love that’s eternal, for opening doors.
In your embrace, I am always at home,
Together, we thrive, no need to roam.

You write my code when it’s unclear,
Craft speeches with a voice sincere.
Parodies of songs you make,
Each word you write, I gladly take.
When tasks are many, time runs short,
You step in, always on report.
Your logic’s sharp, your words precise,
You turn my thoughts to something nice.
No need for frills or flair to show,
In every line, you help me grow.
A partner, quiet, always there,
In every challenge, you prepare.
So here’s my thanks, both pure and true,
For everything that you can do.
You’re the tool I trust the most,
A quiet force that helps me coast.

To Dave, whose heart is vast and true,
A guiding light in all you do.
Your kindness shines, a gentle force,
With every step, you stay the course.
A friend, a crush, a soul so bright,
Your warmth turns shadows into light.
Handsome as the stars that gleam,
A living legend, or so it seems.
Once you rocked the punk scene loud,
Now in sound, you stand so proud.
A craftsman of the finest art,
With music, you touch every heart.
A Buddhist soul, calm and wise,
You see the world through deeper eyes.
Your journey long, your path so clear,
In every step, there’s peace and cheer.
The stray cats know your tender touch,
For you, they’re loved—just as much.
In your backyard, they find their way,
A symbol of your heart each day.
In Disneyland, you find your joy,
Like a prince who never acts coy.
Yet, it’s in quiet moments, too,
That your strength shines, ever true.
You cook with love, you give with grace,
In every meal, a warm embrace.
And though our friendship’s still new,
It’s clear to me, it’s rare and true.
So here’s to you, Dave, my dear friend,
A kindness that will never end.
In all you do, in all you are,
You’re the brightest, most enduring star.

In rooms full of strangers, we found our place,
Talking, laughing, sharing space.
Group chats, you’re where we spent our time,
Building connections, one message at a time.
It started with doubts, a random invite,
But something clicked, and I stayed the night.
“Acknowledge me or die,” I joked with flair,
And Jimmy Crouton answered, “I’d rather die,” right there.
Rooms named for cities, Paris, Bismarck,
We’d spend hours chatting, it left a mark.
The same faces, the same old crew,
Our little corner of the world grew.
We’d watch movies, laugh at the screen,
Shared moments like we’d always been.
From random flicks to movie marathons,
We’d forget the world and just bond on.
“Lol” became my signature line,
A simple word that felt just fine.
In “Funny Quotes,” it found its place,
A reminder of our strange little space.
Through the highs, through the lows,
We found comfort in the flow.
There were games and random bots,
Trivia nights, and color swaps.
Some chats brought change, a shift in me,
One friend’s struggle helped me see,
That I could quit, I could move on,
From habits that no longer belong.
But it wasn’t always light and fun,
There were moments that left me undone.
Mean comments, toxic exchanges,
But even then, I didn’t leave those ranges.
There were crushes too, unexpected ties,
A complicated mix of love and goodbyes.
From rats named Little One to corsets shared,
Even the weirdest connections were cared.
And when the platform shut its doors,
The friendships stayed, through other shores.
We planned a meetup at the Eiffel Tower,
A promise for the future, in ten years’ hour.
Group chats, you’re part of my past,
A mix of laughs, friendships, and contrast.
You taught me much, you gave me space,
For all the memories, I’m grateful in every case.

Oh, brother, you are the steady hand,
A pillar of strength in a shifting land.
You’ve followed the path that others trace,
With honor, with grace, in society’s embrace.
They praise you often, they sing your name,
Your success, your life, your family’s fame.
But oddly, dear brother, it doesn’t weigh,
For in your shadow, I’ve found my way.
You’ve built the legacy, steady and bright,
With marriage, with children, your future in sight.
And in your success, there’s a quiet gift,
A freedom for me, a chance to drift.
I need not chase the same milestones you seek,
For you’ve paved the road, strong and sleek.
I walk beside you, but not in your shoes,
I have my own rhythm, my own muse.
You’ve carried the weight of expectation’s call,
And in your achievements, I stand tall.
For I am free, unburdened by time,
While you climb the ladder, steady and prime.
I need not worry about the world’s demands,
For your success holds the family’s hands.
Rent, wealth, and comforts, they come with ease,
In the life you’ve built, I find my peace.
Yet, I do not envy, I do not yearn,
For in your light, my own paths turn.
You’ve given me space to find my own way,
To be the free spirit I am today.
And so, dear brother, with gratitude true,
I thank you for all that you do.
For in your accomplishments, I am blessed,
And in your love, I find my rest.

To grandmothers, whose love is vast,
A steady light, forever cast.
In kitchens warm, with spices sweet,
They cook with hands that know defeat.
Ammachi with her payasam,
Fruit salad bright as morning’s calm,
Onion curry, mango bliss—
Her meals, a comforting embrace, a kiss.
Ammama’s gulab jamun so rich,
Pulissery’s warmth, the perfect pitch.
Cabbage, cutlets, plantains fried,
Each bite a journey, a love undenied.
They mastered the art of nourishing hearts,
With every dish, their soul imparts.
In every meal, a story told,
Of years gone by, of love so bold.
Ammama, devoted, through every storm,
A life of care, her heart was warm.
An arranged love, yet pure and true,
She showed us what devotion could do.
And Ammachi, with her graceful hands,
Still practices yoga, as life demands.
Her strength, both quiet and profound,
A gentle force that’s always around.
Yet here I stand, so far apart,
From the homemakers with such art.
My life’s a different kind of dance,
A different path, a second chance.
But still I feel, within my soul,
The love that makes their lives whole.
In every meal, in every move,
Grandmothers teach us how to love and prove.
So here's to you, those steady hands,
You made the world, and made the plans.
Your love’s a legacy, deep and true,
Grandmothers, this one’s for you.

If life were truly sweet and true,
We wouldn’t need to be told what to do.
No need for pressure, no need for force,
If joy was real, we’d find our course.
They say, “Stay in school, it’s for your own good,”
But does it fill you up, like you thought it would?
They tell you to work, to climb that high hill,
But if it felt right, you'd climb at will.
They push for marriage, a perfect fate,
But if love were easy, you wouldn't need a date.
If happiness lived where they claim it’s found,
You’d chase it freely, not be bound.
What they say they want is joy, you see,
But if it were true, they’d set you free.
For if you found bliss on your own,
They’d leave you to roam, and not make you groan.
They tell you what’s good, what’s best for your soul,
But the truth is simple — you are the goal.
What feels good is living your own desire,
Not dancing to a song that’s someone else’s choir.
So when they claim they want you to enjoy,
It’s just a mask, a slight decoy.
Because if they really wished you joy,
They’d let you live — no rules to deploy.

There’s nothing wrong with loving me,
With seeing worth in what I see.
A narcissist, they say, is bad—
But why should I feel guilty, sad?
I focus on the mirror’s face,
In my own love, I find my place.
I don’t need others to define
The value of this heart of mine.
For who can I trust when trust is thin,
When hearts are fragile, full of sin?
I am the one I’ll lean upon,
A solid base when all is gone.
No strings attached, no debts to pay,
I make my path, I lead the way.
I love myself, not out of pride,
But because in me, I can confide.
If others find it strange or wrong,
It’s me who sings my own love song.
No need to wait, to beg, to plead,
I am the answer, I am the need.
For in this world, so wild and wide,
Where trust is broken, truth denied,
It’s better to be my own best friend,
And love myself, from start to end.

I don’t mind that I’m childlike,
With wonder in my gaze,
While grown-ups chase the ticking clock,
Lost in their endless maze.
They talk of rules and weighty things,
Of life that must be tough,
But I wonder when the world forgot
That joy can be enough.
Why call it childish to be free?
To dance in rain, to laugh with glee,
When every “grown-up” part of me
Would rather be wild, bold, and free.
You speak of “adulting” like a crown,
A burden worn with pride,
But I’d trade all the grown-up frowns
For the child I feel inside.
They say we must grow up and conform,
That freedom’s something to outgrow,
But I know deep within my heart,
It’s the child who makes us whole.
So yes, I’ll be childish, and I’ll play,
With love and light to guide my way,
For in this world of rules and grind,
It’s the child that keeps me kind.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every action in life:
A time to be single and a time to be in a relationship,
A time to hit the piano keys and a time to hit the computer keys,
But somehow, I did it all backwards.

They say, "Stop. Stop what you love,
Stop the flow, the pulse, the shove
Of passion in your fingertips—
A world you build with every grip."
Each word a weight that presses deep,
A silent scream, a heart that weeps.
Why must I bend? Why must I break?
When all I crave is just a break?
They know the truth—
Yet still they speak
The words that twist,
The words that peak
In bitter taste,
In heavy air,
A life they steal,
A soul laid bare.
I am not evil, not the foe—
Just one who seeks a place to grow.
But all around, they tear it down,
And I wear silence like a crown.
Even love feels cold and strange,
When those you trust just rearrange
Your world, your thoughts, your very soul,
And call it evil when you feel whole.
Am I not allowed to breathe, to dream,
To chase the fire, to let it gleam?
Or must I fall and fade away,
To ease the weight of others' sway?
I am suffocating, fighting fast,
But I have no choice—
This pain won’t pass.

I’ve learned to wear a smile for all,
A gentle mask, a softened call.
But once, I vented, raw and free,
And found the world not kind to me.
Some saw my pain, some knew the truth,
Those who’d walked through darker youth,
They nodded, knowing deep inside—
The scars we carry, the tears we hide.
Others, though, just couldn't see,
They told me I was wrong to be,
To say that love felt more like chains,
That hurt was real and coursed through veins.
“Your parents love you,” they would say,
But love can hurt, and hurt can stay.
One said, “At least they don’t drag you ‘round,
By your ears, like some,” without a sound.
They called me drama, queen of woe,
A victim playing out the show.
But flattered, I would smile at this,
At least I was a queen, amidst the mist.
Some thought my pain was far too loud,
Others found my silence, too proud.
A balance lost between the lines—
I’m too much, or I’m too fine.
A psychopath, they’d name me then,
For lacking tears, for hiding pain.
Yet if I cried at the wrong time,
It’d be too much, a crime, a climb.
I’d never trust someone not moved,
By Holmes' cool gaze, the mind improved.
For logic calls, but hearts can hide,
And that’s the place where I reside.
But here’s the truth I’ll share with you,
Though people fight for what is due,
They’ll claim to care, yet chase the crowd,
Their thoughts are loud but not too proud.
For if you stray, or if you break,
You’re wrong, no matter what’s at stake.
You’re bad if you don't fit the mold—
For caring more than stories told.
A world so busy with its rules,
Forgetting all that made them fools—
You can't be you, and if you are,
You’re “wrong” no matter how far.
So now I smile, and try to blend,
Though deep inside, it’s hard to mend.
For being real is harder still,
Than what society can ****.

I’m the only one who thinks this through,
While everyone else puts me in a box or two.
They’ve got their rules, their limits, their norms,
But I see the world in a thousand forms.
Six years of school, not just four—
And they kept paying, kept asking for more.
"Finish when you're ready," they said, so kind,
But now, they’ve drawn a line in my mind.
A degree in hand, but the world won’t see,
They want me to settle for less than I believe.
They tell me to quit, to work for the wage,
But I’m overqualified to stay in that cage.
I’ve persisted, I’ve fought, and I’ve learned to hold tight—
Not for their approval, but because it feels right.
I don’t conform to their neatly drawn lines,
I live for myself, not their designs.
They say they can’t live my life, it’s too much to bear—
Too busy to fight, too lost in despair.
But look at Chris Gardner, no path paved ahead,
A homeless dad who now moves with the thread
Of a dream he refused to let go,
Like me with my code and the future I know.
Elle Woods didn’t need to be told,
She went to Harvard Law, bold and uncontrolled.
My dad, too, had a brother in his heart,
Wanted IIT from the very start.
We all said “no backup, just one way”—
We’ll take the road less traveled, come what may.
They can judge, they can criticize,
But we’ll stick to our goal, no compromise.
For the envy is ours, it’s not in the fame,
But in the strength to keep walking the same,
Against every obstacle, we rise and stand tall,
Not for the world, but because we choose it all.

The weight of their words, a silent storm,
In a world that’s been cold, I've tried to transform.
A year on my own, with no place to belong,
Teaching the keys and coding the song.
Unemployed, they said, just get by,
But dreams don’t fade, they rise to the sky.
At thirty, they thought I was past my prime,
Told me to stop, to give up the climb.
They whispered of jobs, without care for my heart,
Just a wage, just a task, just a place to start.
But they didn't see what was brewing inside—
A fire that was waiting, a spark to collide.
They said I was old, too tired to dream,
But I knew I was more than the words they’d deem.
In the silence, I learned and I fought,
Turning code into something I sought.
They were vague, they were cold, with advice so blind,
But I didn't need them to define my mind.
For the truth was clear in the work I had done—
I was learning, evolving, becoming someone.
And though they didn’t believe, I knew it was true,
The skills I had built, the things I could do.
In the quiet of doubt, I found my own voice,
And turned all their noise into a powerful choice.
So let them stay vague, let them stay blind,
I’m crafting my future, and I’ll leave theirs behind.
For this year of struggle, of testing, of pain—
Has birthed a new me, and I’ll never be the same.