We once shared the same songs
If I'd focus, I could hear what you hear
All I needed was to let my heart act as a sail
You made me let go of fear

My faith has gotten stronger
The storm has turned into a nervous song
A song of the rain has morphed into a shelter of the mind
This power can right the wrongs in my life

But this planet will die, and so will the vile
So I talk all night about something pure
You will see that I have a life
I can't lie to you, you know I'm broken and poor

You have created a hole in my heart
There is a hunger that aches for your art
But I have waited too long to not start
I joke to everyone that she's **** smart

The wind changes speeds and the cities fall asleep
I could go oceans deep and search for that storm
But my power signals that this calmness runs deep
Let this moment of silence stay between us

How weird, your trousers!

You really don't care, that's what --


I like about you!

To maintain something

as it is, you need to change --


lots of other things.

The civil servant

takes the money, and the punch --


that he could not find.

i was too tender and well-meaning in my youth to understand why each petal plucked from a flower felt so powerful. the way it tugged, the resistance. like a stop sign colored in a light rose pink. it was softly forbidden, you weren’t supposed to do it — but it wasn’t impossible. i didn’t understand power, but i felt it that day.

the flower was my first conquest. i made confetti of anything i could get my hands on — leaves, fruit, toys — i couldn’t stand to see anything whole. to the untrained eye, i was just messy and curious. i was, and i am.

but somewhere along the way, i was the one that was ripped to shreds. someone felt that power i did in my mom’s garden and graduated to people. so did i.

and i so wish i could say i cascaded softly to the ground with a whisper like a petal and not a resounding thud that echoed in the bottom of every bottle of alcohol i drank, in the cramped back of cars of strangers, at the edge of the pitch roof of my house. i wish i had that much grace.

i now understand how the flower petals, the pieces of fruit, the dolls without heads or arms must have felt — to be unwilling participants of a mosaic that didn’t even make a very pretty picture.

but at least i’m sharp if you dare to pick me up and put me on your wall.

Eighteen
Such a strange age
Want to be free
Afraid to leave the cage

Too young to be old
Too old to be young
Too little to spend
Too much to learn

Afraid of the future
Long to be in it
Flightless birds
in a sky with no limit

Nothing to do
So we cry
Nothing to live for
So we die

Addicted to depression
This covid generation
Craving some attention
Looking for clarity
In this lonely,loveless Eden
Zoo animals thrown into wild
Without any preparation

Hate our parents
Hate the world
Hate ourselves
Issues of dearth

Want to do so much
So we do nothing instead
Feeling so tired
Of being so useless

Yes,we have dreams
Atleast I remember that we do
What are they exactly but
We haven't got a clue

Something in between
First-time adult,last-time child
Most of the times we do nothing
But somedays we wanna be wild

Staring emptily into the void of insta
For that rush of dopamine
Too afraid to be bored
Young,dumb and serene

Simultaneously thinking
We are better and worse than our true selves
In search for salvation
On video game shelves

I'm so confused
This way or the other
Too dumb to know the answer
Too proud to ask my mother

All the friends
have suddenly become so strange
Acting so different
Singing odes to hell

Everyone else,
so figured out
Me and my friends
surrendered to doubt

Life-changing decisions
And dank memes
Not know what we are feeling
Not knowing what we want
Not knowing who are

Since we have so much time
We love to waste it all
Give me a friend to talk to
There's too much going on

Waiting for the revolution
Watching tiktok on the computer
Reading novels on socialism
What is your political compass?

Hearing the same song again and again
Left wing or right wing,which path do we take
Contemplating the economy,measuring the pain
Doing silly trends,to be up with our friends

Gold fish attention span
Choose a poison,choose a clan
We have so many plans but don't ask our plans
Be obnoxiously silent or be obnoxiously loud
Time to get real,time to fool around

Learning about the world
It seems awesome and f-ed up
The adults have ruined it
Now we have to clean up

Confusion is an ally
We are *****,young teens
Oh no,******
Feelings of love begin

Hey god if you are real
Can you email me the address
Because I am unable to find the pincode
of true happiness?

Take us to the yesterday
Take us to the future
What to do,what to do
Killed by confusion
Dont judge,you were once like this too

I don't know what I want to mean
But I get a pass
I'm confused,I'm eighteen

You cannot understand us
Because neither can we
Que sera sera
Whatever will be,will be

(Note-the poem may feel repetitive because so is life)

Bump, bump, with those blows

on my head I can't think what --


to do about it.

Exerting true power
I bloom
Into the flower
Of the present.

The staff members are the worst
they only do their job half way
spying on the chief
and each other, to blow with
the wind when it turns

They take care
of their career, what is good
for them is called good
for the cause, they hold on
and will spoil everything

Even if it's just hearsay
a good story is indestructible
It steals what you want to have
and you black-wash everyone who contradicts
to appear white yourself

while you are the first to cry
'Stop thief!'
with a passing side note
which amplifies the rumours
by contradicting them