I want to be a patriot
But it's very difficult
Because we aren't really independent
That's the harsh truth
Divided by thousands of castes
And a handful of religions
Steeped in poverty
Hard to find humanity
In this third world nation
Easier to find depression!

I want to be a patriot
However, I am hurt
By the sheer apathy
Ever present in our society
Towards the sufferings
Of the depressed and so-called backward classes
As well as mental health
Not to mention, so much filth
Leading to countless diseases
And thus deaths of thousands!!

I want to be a patriot
But nothing to be patriotic about
Most people are selfish
For gossip, they fish
However, when you truly need help
You don't get help
In this society, only pain
Not a single gain!!

I want to be a patriot
But no use for it
This country protects the corrupt
And the morally bankrupt
The good people suffer
Especially the women
And of course, the needy and poor
I am ashamed to be an Indian!!

I want to be a patriot
However, I cannot
All I care about is my close circle
Of family, cousins and friends
Call me anti-national
I won't give two hoots
I'm done
With this so-called nation!!

And I’ll miss you,
but I don’t need you—
because needing you
makes it seem like
I’m not okay by myself.

And I’ve always been.

I never needed another.
I came in this world by myself—
all I had was my *****.
So how could I ever
need another person
to make me happy?

To be honest,
other people haven’t done ****
but give me crippling anxiety.
They made me second-guess myself
and all the things
I ever believed.

I don’t understand
what more a *******
could want from me.

And this ain’t just hurt talking—
this is me
looking back on all 18 years
of this life
that I’ve had to walk
alongside others
who made my walk
nothing but hell.

So I don’t need you her—
or anybody,
the **** else.

I even get more creative
when I’m alone.
So who needs friends?
Who needs you?

I feel like once you left,
I was a flower in bloom.

So I wrote all this to say:
I’ll miss you.
But I don’t need you.

I’m okay by myself.
And I’ve always been.

I’ll be okay without you.

For those who still believe
Happy Fourth of July
And for those who lost hope
Happy firework night

(on the ten-year anniversary of leaving home)

without looking back,
she boarded a flight,
concealing that piercing anxiety.
to soothe the ache,
packed her language as a guide,
weeping quietly for her country.

recognition came in tears,
stretched paper-thin—
that her home couldn’t yet grasp
that love begins within.

the early years, under flickering lights,
were spent seeking solace.
with inner voices softly humming—
inhaling cheap wine,
books as her compass—
enough to outweigh not belonging.

some nights,
she danced until her heels
worn the skin away,
bleeding her truth into tile,
whilst friends, thick as thieves,
melted into laughter, and gin.

she loved badly,
lit candles to soften the silence
that screamed louder at 3 a.m.,
scribbled poetry
on the walls of her soul—
long forgotten, left forsaken.

her twenties were a strange gift,
she never thought to ask for,
memories scattered down the hallway,
like spilled drinks, laced with honesty.
sometimes the weight is still sore,
and yet she’s walking,
barefoot,
unfolding.

The heather burns with purple fire,
A land that dreams, a land that’s dire.
Through every glen, a cry is cast;
“We are a nation – free at last!”

No longer ruled by distant hand,
We claim our voice; we stake our stand.
From Bannockburn to present day’
The will for freedom finds its way.

The pound may shake, the oil may dry,
But still our hope will not deny.
For richer far than vaults of gold
Are rights no outsider should hold.

A parliament, yet not the crown,
Still shackled while we lift the town.
Our children ask in modern tongue:
“Why must our fate be England ‘s song”

With Europe’s hand, with island grace,
We take our place, we find our space.
A Scottish dawn, fierce, unafraid,
In truth and trust, our future’s made.