Aditi: Poems

Aditi 2d

how are we supposed to do anything in life, really?

smart or dumb, boy or girl, pink or blue—
why must we pick a side, like identity's a slot to slip into?
choose the "wrong" one, and they crucify you.
choose the "right" one... and they'll still find something to rip through.
if you're trans, you don't belong here.
but if you're "normal," your pain is dressed up and paraded as propriety.

all we were ever meant to be was pawns
in a game of chess played by devils in suits.
you're either a **** or a bore—never just enough.
we were always just footnotes in your legacy,
chapters of hurt you called "growth,"
the bleeding women you left behind called "lessons."

was it always about your satisfaction?
I see it now—so clearly it blinds.
to you, we are statues—meant to be admired,
until chipped down by your offhand remarks.
and that statue? it could have been the greatest thing in your life.
if only you had dusted it off, looked deeper, you'd have seen her:
a goddess in stone, with a heart of pure gold.

but you didn't.
and it's fine, right? you're a "man"—so it's all fine.
we're expected to heal quietly,
to get better just in time for you to ruin us again.

you pull me close, feed me sugar,
then push me down onto the pavement.

to be left with the rats and mice,
just another body they'll step over.
just another ****** in the name of "love."
and "love"—such a mysterious thing, don't you think?

just another body.
another body.

Different.

Aditi Apr 15

Different.

I loved someone once—he was never nice.
Always pointed out some “fault” of mine:
my hair, my clothes, my skin.
Me.
But kindness from him? It came at a price.
He mocked me, broke me—cruelty was his key.

Yesterday, my heart forgot to beat.
I saw him and I froze—
not here, not again. Please, not again.
He hit me hard, again and again,
like pain that refused to leave.
Why does he still affect me?
I swore I moved on—
but here I am, again.

Seeing him felt like a car crash—
one crash, and everything changed.
Why did I crash?
Why couldn’t I learn to drive first?
The glass shards pierced my heart like knives.
So tell me—why’d I fall for a boy
who gave me the worst?

Nobody knows.
And neither do I.
I lie awake at night thinking of the good—
but by day,
I spit anger at the weight of his lie.
His ego?
Taller than mountains,
even when we were just kids.

I want my story to be different.

Someone loves me—and he’s quite nice.
Always admires my hair, my clothes, my skin.
Me.
And cruelty?
Never once directed toward me.
He adores me,
healed me—
admiration was his key.

But alas, one can only dream—
dream of things being
different.

I Am Me

Aditi 6d

I Am Me

I am not what they call “stereotypical pretty”
And still, we get bruised by these cruel ideals.
Pretty this, pretty that—that's life in the city,
Standards so twisted, they wound what’s real.

I may not be gorgeous, but I am me.

Why must we be judged if we don’t look “right”?
I’m not just my face, not just what they see.
I’m the books I love, the music that feels like light.
I’m Aditi—and that should be enough for me.

I may not be gorgeous, but I am me.

The duty of the “Beautiful Goddess”—how unfair.
Crushed by queens who wear beauty like a crown.
We walk behind, made to vanish in thin air,
But still we rise, even when they push us down.

I may not be gorgeous, but I am me.

Why do they think we’re only our skin?
Are we not our minds, our voices, our art?
Why can’t I be the stories I hold within,
The meals I make, the kindness in my heart?

I may not be gorgeous, but I am me.

I am more than what their mirrors reflect—
I am the shows I cherish, the people I adore.
I am the full stop where my story connects,
The roots of my culture, the dreams I store.

I may not be gorgeous, but I am me.

Or at least, that’s what I tell myself today.
I am the fruit still growing on the tree,
The white book among gold, with something to say.

But does that matter?
In the end, I am the things that make me me.

One Can Only Dream

Aditi Apr 15

One Can Only Dream

Someone loves me and he cares
Someone loves me and he’s kind
Someone loves me and he doesn’t swear
Someone loves me and we live our lives intertwined

How desperately I wish this was true—
But alas one can only dream

He loves me like how the stars love the moon
He loves me like the seas love the sand
His fingers glide along the guitar, playing a tune
His ideas— so big they expand over lands

How desperately I wish this was true—
But alas one can only dream

His scalloped finger tips skim over my books
Admiring detailed spines, childlike wonder in his eyes
My heart skips at the sight of his good looks
His eyes are midnight blue like the evening skies

How desperately I wish this was true—
But alas one can only dream

He calls me the love of his life.
I beg him not to wait—go live your life.
But he smiles, says, “You are my life.”
And just like that, I ache to be his wife.

How desperately I wish this was true—
But alas one can only dream

Run.

Aditi Apr 15

Run.

Is this what the world has come to?
We’re invaded with questions—then judged.
No one could say the day it all went askew.
A flawless world, entrusted to us—now fractured, now kludged.

It's deemed unfortunate to be a women
Imagine that—how being a woman became unfortunate.
Imagine being told your face is disproportionate.
She gave you a life, yet you gave her less than heaven.

That is the hard truth:
Being a woman, treated as if we were dogs.
We care for your children, we care for your family, we care for you.
But sometimes, there’s a man who truly cares—
he’s the light that guides through the fog.

And sometimes, a man can dim that light
until it disappears from view—for you.

The man who cares?
He’s the one.
He will protect you, guide you, be with you, love you.
He. Is. The. One.

But the one who dims the light?
He will **** you.
Maybe not physically—
but mentally,
he will torture you,
manipulate you.
He is the one you run from.

Run.
Run until your feet ache.
Run until the blisters peel away
and all you have left
is the fire in your chest
and the shoes on your blistered feet.

The Mask Beneath

Aditi 7d

The Mask Beneath

Her tears flow along the ground like a river
Her ears ache from the constant shouting
Her headphones blare with Chappell Roan’s “The Giver”
A melody fierce—yet in pain, she’s drowning

She plays pop songs just to hide, hide beneath her mask
She’s the joyful girl—or so they think, they all believe
No one’s ever paused to wonder, to even ask
She breathes, she walks, she smiles—but beneath it, she grieves

She lies awake at night, wondering who her knight will be
Someone to save her from this place she calls her personal hell

His face still burns from his father’s slap
They wanted a girl—but “disgraced” themselves with a boy
The scars on his back could form a map
They all think he’s laughter, happiness, joy

He tells lies like breathing, it comes with ease
He’s the happiest guy—or so they all believe
He walks through life as if he’s free of unease
But pain creeps in through cracks he can’t quite leave

He lies awake each night, praying for an escape
To give his love to someone who sees him—not his mask

She walks down the street, her hair hiding her face
He walks that same path, a fake smile in place
She bumps into him, her lip gloss spills in disgrace
He stammers, helps her—his words all over the place

Her heart skips at the sight of his hazel glass eyes
His breath halts when he sees her bright green gaze
To her, he’s a carnival prize in disguise
To him, she’s the light at the end of a haze

He shares laughs, jokes—and then his number
She shares thoughts, dreams—and then her number
He didn’t know this moment would rewrite his whole life
She didn’t know this man would one day call her his wife

They didn’t know what fate had planned
But they took the risk—and thank god they did.

Written in Ink and Stars

Aditi 3d

Written in Ink and Stars

I want to be loved—not the unrequited kind,
But the kind where looks don’t matter at all.
The kind where he sees my heart, my soul, my mind,
Where our thoughts may differ, but we still stand tall.

His name echoes through the hall...

I watch the ink glide softly across the page,
Writing of a love I’ve yet to know, yet to hold.
Each word is hope, each line a quiet ache,
I dream of stargazing with him in the cold.

His name echoes through the hall...

Book tropes fill my thoughts—friends to lovers slow-burn,
He drapes his jacket over my shoulders in the chill.
He pulls me up whenever I stumble or turn,
And stays, even when time stands still.

His name echoes through the hall...

I want him beside me—day by day,
Through every season, every storm, every climb.
To strip away the bark, in a gentle, loving way—
And hold the tender heart of wood that’s mine.

His name echoes through the hall...

My soul, my love, my hope, my dreams—I want them all to be his.
Let him love me like moths drawn to a flame,
Like Benny loved Selena, with a forever kind of wish,
Let him call me his from rooftops, unashamed.

I long to be his, to live in his world—
But all he’ll ever be is the echo of a dream…

#love

— The End —