I love you when you are happy
I love you when you are sad
I loved you yesterday
And I'll love you tomorrow
More than i previously had.

I love you in the moonlight
I love you in the storms
I love you the way
Roses love thorns.

I love you in autumn
I love you when leaves gloss
I'll love you the same way
Grief loves loss.

I exist.

But i need to do things
I don't really like,
And i dream
Of a different life.

So, am i truly alive?

I have some questions,
Who the **** do i hold accountable?

And I know we've come so far,
We can now vote, drive and hustle on our own.

But,
Why we couldn't do it in the first place?
Why we still gotta cover ourselves?
Why do we still shame our women?
Why do we still **** our women?

Yeah, we have a long way,
Now we can go to uni and bars and sway.

But,
Why do we still slutshame our women?
Why do we praise single dads,
And i know it's good that they stay;
But why do we still mock single moms,
When they nurture the same?

And yeah, we've come so far...
But are we sure we're not going
Backwards after all?

Because what do you mean Afghani women can't become doctors?
What do you mean you say they can't get treated by men,
They can't get treated at all, their life's become vain?

What do you mean they can't speak in public or show their skin?
Why are we after our own kin?

What do you mean you've banned abortions?
And contraceptive pills too?

You say it's just a mistake,
That he's just neurodivergent,
And honestly that's just insulting towards them,
And i can already hear the sirens.

You say Musk did the Roman salute,
And not the **** one,
As if fascism makes it better .
What do you mean it's all good,
Until a billionaire is getting criticism?

You say everything is fine,
As if you don't keep banning books.
We all joke about "going places",
I think you're going Germany, 1939!
And what do you mean I'm more worried,
When the country isn't even mine?

You say 'Make America Great Again',
As if it was great in the first place.
Because what do you mean you all
Voted for a felon with with a straight face?

You called her Nirbhaya 2.0
As if Dr. Moumita was a movie sequel,
And not one of the million victims of ****.
Why does it seem you all don't really care,
And it's like a trend formed everywhere?

At least some things are still consistent,
Like how equality and justice isn't served,
To neither Dr. Moumita or Atul Subhash in India,
And India cares more about India's Got Latent,
After all it brings more TRP to media.

I am so exhausted of all this ****,
And how it has become so recurring.

And millions of my questions are still unanswered,
Who the **** do i hold accountable?

The love around
Didn't suffice,
So i ran towards
sins.

hotly simmering in my veins,
just beneath the surface.
i'll have it any other way.

making small talk,
i'm acting as if i'm not adraid.
but i'm oh-so sick of
the talking, dancing around, ghosting.
rinse n' repeat,
i'm gonna keep this away.

but i want it,
but any other way.
'cause it's so nauseating
chatting, smiling, being a little flirt,
then curling up in bed.

and it is still simmering hotly, in my veins.

i'm on edge,
this i must confess.
i want, no i need to hold her face
i need the stars aligned today,
the cosmos leads my fate
and i need her in this place.

'cause it's blue and gray in here,
but she's my sunflower
could order the sun to face her,
such greatness...

and i would kneel for her, would stand by her,
would leave the rest away.

so i'll have it any other way...

i was raised again
back from dead,
unlike a phoenix,
i was a corpse
rotting in grave.

it was to investigate
how it was in heaven, actually...in hell.
"hot", "dark", "is it heinous a lot" ?
was it ''the kingdom of rot'' ?

i sighed at their face,
told 'em it felt like my place;
and not to do it again.

however, as you know;
'history repeats itself'.
so they stabbed me again,
in my chest.

then raised me back from dead
to interrogate me,
yet again.

so the cycle of torture still descends
all in vain...

The flowers died on monday
They had been wilting for a while 
I had been staring at them
They reminded me of the love we had
Beautiful yet tragic
Romantic yet ghastly

And i know it could have been worse
That we could have made it work
But it wasn't my **** show alone
Couldn't make it work since you were gone.

Artistic yet fragile like a card pyramid 
Fallen to base by wind's blow
But we could have built it back up
We could have made it work 
But the afterglow wasn't enough.

An abstract painting
Up to interpret.
Is it just me,
Or the mirror has a disfigurement?
Did the flower abruptly bloom,
Or was it something swollen in me,
That grew while I was sleeping?
Stunningly consuming the insides within.
Or does it pain
Because I'm empty?

Lovely and as useless
As a seven year old's drawing.
As haunting of a sight
Like a storm cloud nearby,
The drug of a cinephile.
Even my chest hurts when someone hugs
So even my ribs are in agony.
Or does it pain
Because I'm empty?

Loving the breeze
Finally at ease
With the waves singing
At the shore

The sound of the tide
Matches my smile
Helping me sleep
With its lullaby

"The sea is so vast"
"It seems so dark"
But all i do is laugh
As I drown inside

A tear escapes
With the weight in my chest
But maybe it's just the salt
That fills my breath.

Humans are social creatures
Yet the darkness never casts me away
Unlike when I'm walking with my friends
But I'm two steps back
Because 4 people together
Will crowd the hallway

Humans are social creatures
Yet a locked room won't throw me away
Unlike my friend pulling our other friend
Because she has to tell her a secret
That just isn't for me

Humans are social creatures
Yet the water of the shower doesn't drown me away
Unlike the way I know everyone in my school
But don't fit in any of the groups

Humans are social creatures
Yet my music doesn't let me faint
Unlike when I'm asked about my best friend
But realise I don't have one to name

It all bled and bled and bled.

The hurt. The abandonment. The truth. The metaphors. 

It all bled.

It all bled so vicious and dark,
That I started wondering if my bitterness
started staining the crimson of my blood.
And painted it a stark black,
As I picked apart all that I lack.

And I bled and bled and bled like
The never-ending torture 
Of birth and death.

pay more respect to the women working at morgues.

they tend to the dead
it takes sympathy
it takes care
it takes courage
it takes control

not the control of fear of stray souls
not the control of fear of phantoms
but the control of wanton

and that is why men aren't hired by morgues.