All the wasted time.
Days and days turned into years.
With nothing to show.

I was walking in my backyard under cloudy skies
Cool breeze tangled in my hair
While chirping birds blessed my ears
My cats’ soft meows melted away my stress

A bitter neem leaf brushed against my head
Pomegranates hung heavy, feeding my little joys

Then the storm came,
Sudden, heavy, loud
Cats ran, neem bent, pomegranates burst
And my peaceful walk became an escape

It’s so much easier
to pretend
you’re a spectator
in this game called life.

Everyone told the little girl, “womanhood is divine,”
But no one saw the scars carved beneath her spine.
Red marks below her breast from bra's elastic and lace,
A monthly red war etched across her face.

She bleeds in silence, yet is told to smile,
Sit with grace, hide the pain, and act fine awhile.
She writes her exams through the stabbing cramps,
Still the world thinks she’s made just for ramps.

Her clothes become society’s claim,
But she says, “F* it,” and run towards her aim.

My heart fills with joy
Each time I see HP notifications coming by.
“Someone loved your poem” makes me believe,
Confidence blooming in words I weave.

I smile while reading comments in delight,
Each word feels like a guiding light.
“Someone reposted it” gives me gentle thrills,
A kindness that lingers, a warmth that instills.

And when my poem starts trending high,
I whisper thank you, with tears in my eye.

Have you ever seen a demon?
Do not search in hell—it's empty,
nor summon in darkness.

Step before the mirror.
It does not lie.

It remembers—
the lie on your tongue,
the trust you shattered,
the God you abandoned,
the soul you betrayed.

The glass does not forgive.
It recognizes souls.....
And the face that stares back
will not be your own.