I went looking for someone to blame for all the cracks
in my name, for the mess I made — but that mirror
didn’t tell a lie. The culprit wore my face.
I don’t want your love. I don’t want your shame.
Still, somehow, you found me — tongue bitter with
the taste of your mistakes; pressed against my teeth
like communion for the broken.

Tears rose — blooming smoke, clouds of falling flowers.
A storm of soft destruction, raining petals made of regret —
but it never rained just mine. It rained yours too.

Yet you learn to grow from the things that once cut
you down. Even the sharpest wounds can become
something softer when you let them go.
Edges trimmed; old roots shed — and still, I rise.
So now, when you see me, don’t mistake me for my
damage. I am not the bruise. I am not the blade.
I am far better than the sum of my mistakes.

I will lose all that I am,
I will lose all that I desire
Because that's what runners do
They run after they start the fire
And maybe I am walking now
But that doesn't change the past
I set the house on fire and
I can't expect you standing there when I walk back
But still I'll pace around the wreckage-
Searching for glimpses of you
And all I'll find is smoke and fire- you loved me, I punished you

To live is to suffer.
To love is to suffer.
To create is to suffer.

Existence itself is stitched with sorrow,
but in its aching seams,
blooms something beautiful.

So we must choose —
choose carefully
who, or what, we are willing to suffer for.

And I chose you.

I chose to cradle the weight of your name
in the hollow of my chest,
to love you through the good, the bad,
the moments that left us broken and bleeding,
the silences heavy as tombstones.

I sit now, in the wreckage of what was,
thinking of forever —
the whole nine yards,
a life I painted in the colors of you.

But you're not here anymore.
You exist only in fleeting fragments,
ghost-thoughts
of laughter in a room now silent,
of touches I’ll never feel again.

And I am the reason.
I carry that like a stone in my gut,
a burden I won't set down.

Yet, I choose to be better,
to climb out of myself,
to carve light from the grief.

Because as long as my lungs rise and fall,
as long as my heart dares to beat,
I’ll remember —
your arms were the only home
I ever truly knew.

And maybe one day,
this suffering will shape me
into someone worthy
of loving like that again.

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?

We've cut the tree for warmth in winter's chill,
Only to lose its shade when summer's heat is still.
Cut only a branch, and let new life begin,
And you'll have fire and shade to cherish within.