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5.1k · Apr 2019
i am a six year old
vern Apr 2019
I am a small and expressive six-year-old
I just came back from India, just a trip to visit family
I wear a bindi
My hands are decorated with mehndhi¹
I wear bangles on my arm of all different colors
I wore a little churi daar
²
And everyone teased me
“She has a disease?”
“Why is there a dot on your forehead?”
“You look funny”
A few of my friends tell me that I look pretty and they wish to wear it too.
I get a few compliments but the rest hurt
I never wore a bindi in front of them again
I washed my hands to rid the orange stains
I never wear my Indian clothes
I am a not so small and not expressive sixteen-year-old
I see music festivals, I see movies, I see the people who teased me when I was six
They wear the dots that I had worn
They decorate their hands with what they call “henna”
It wasn’t an Indian holiday
I’m a little hurt
Why was I teased?
But they are praised
“It’s aesthetically pleasing?”
“The bindi is indie”
Do not tease me for my culture
And then take it for your own praise
Is that even fair?
Do you think that’s fair?
some thoughts about cultural appropriation
1. henna in intricate patterns
2. an Indian outfit prominent in Gujarat, worn during holiday celebrations
1.6k · May 2019
red strings of fate
vern May 2019
we are tied to our fates with a thin red string
they are strung to our love, destiny, and death.
the young man who lost his lover
is fated to fall for another.
the new mother who holds her child
is fated for a beautiful destiny she cannot imagine.
the person sitting alone on the bench
is fated to lose his life to someone.
none of these people can see where their strings go
they live as if there are no red strings tied to their fingers
and attached to the sky.
only the watcher of our fate can see these red strings.
she grieves for the some of the strings
the saddest lives are the smallest
smiles for other strings
she sees those who will have full lives
and she sighs
the watcher cannot see her own strings
unlike the others, she is not ignorant of fate.
she is aware of fate, embraces fate,
but she does not know her own fate
was she destined for eminence, luster
was she destined for a lover, a heart
was she destined for death, sooner rather than later
she will never know
the burden of the knowledge of the red strings
weighs her down
she does not have a fate, a love, a destiny, a death.
For she is the watcher of the red strings of fate
and only the watcher of the red strings of fate.
I've loved the concept that there is some invisible red string that ties you to your soulmate. However, I wanted to reimagine it as something that ties you to any fate you have. Sometimes I feel like I am the watcher of the red strings. It's just a sense of hopelessness and emptiness that maybe I won't amount to anything or will be enough for anyone. That's a lot of emotion, but I hope you still enjoy this poem.
945 · Apr 2019
unfinished poems
vern Apr 2019
in my pocket you will find
a receipt, some gum
scraps of paper, some change
a wrapper or two
there is a dollar as well,
and finally a book
of unfinished poems.
open the book you will find
words that were written
but soon to be forgotten
by the author who misplaces her mind
she wants to accomplish
even a drabble or two but
sadly she will never finish
for she'll forget that too
along with her ambition
perhaps works are meant to be unfinished
I always try to write. Unfortunately, I'm not very good at finishing what I start. I'm trying to get better and finishing my works. This poem is basically about that. This is for the forgetful people who want to accomplish a lot but either forget to complete their works or lose the will to do so. This is basically my first poem on this website, I hope you like it.
927 · Jun 2019
irrational fear
vern Jun 2019
I have a fear of being left
that one day someone
family, friend, or lover
will disappear from my life
as if they were never there
and I would never know why
this irrational fear haunts me
but there is another fear that hurts me even more
if I left my someone
would they feel the same as I would
when I disappear, would no one even blink
would anyone wonder where I went
how everything went wrong
I am terrified that it wouldn't bother them at all
it is not the fear of being left
it is the fear of never being missed
that is so irrational yet so burdensome
I wish I could get over this irrational fear, but unfortunately, I can't. Also two poems today!
846 · Jul 2019
stolen glances
vern Jul 2019
how could I be so blind
to the stolen glances you gave me
was there always such a loving intent
within your gaze
how was I so oblivious
to miss your eyes on me
writer's block has been so rough
here's something until my writer's block goes away
706 · Sep 2019
storm
vern Sep 2019
the first flash of lightning blinded my eyes
just a slight flicker of what was yet to come
the crackle of the thunder shook my world
the smallest shock that was ready to ripple out
a storm of torment and chaos was brewing
I felt to overwhelming waves of despair flow over me
drowning me in it's tight waters and strong hold
I knew what was coming
it was a scene I was all too familiar with
the storm was coming again
the rising of the waters and the cracks of the sky
were coming to ******* over
I wasn't ready the first time
however, this time I will remain strong
I will no topple over, nor drown from this storm tonight
I've been feeling super overwhelmed with life again.
605 · Jul 2021
in the archives
vern Jul 2021
i judged myself so harshly
burying deep memories within the archive
forcing myself to forget who I was
and focus on who I could be
but who I was is a fragment of who I am
diving in the archives of my mind
i forgave my younger self for the mistakes
for i was a child and faults are a given
i relieve my childhood from the catacombs of the past
and move forward together
hand in hand as a whole
556 · Jun 2019
a sweet dream
vern Jun 2019
when I woke up this morning
I had the strangest feeling
the remnants of last nights dream
lingered on my lips and cheek
it was a dream filled with chocolate
it was sweet, but also bitter
it was an enchanting dream
but it left me with an empty stomach
it was not one of lust but one of love
when I woke up this morning
I never felt more alone
I am a liar, I didn't have a dream like this last night, it was actually about treasure planet, but do you ever have a dream where you're just in love and happy or just a good dream and when you wake up you're happy it's over, that's just the mood rn.
484 · Oct 2020
don't be foolish
vern Oct 2020
do not be foolish again
I whisper to the beating sound in my chest
pressed against my lungs once again
it tells me you've lost your breath
do not fall let yourself get trapped in the same chaos
its a repetitive motion you know too well
do not let your self fall for another and fall back from another
you do not know love
you never knew love
the obsessions you hold to  
the fantasies you build
let them all go at once
save yourself
do not be foolish again
my love life is tragic but in a funny rom com sort of way where the character should probably just focus on herself
404 · Jun 2019
words from eris (part one)
vern Jun 2019
discord and strife stood before me
with hollow cheeks, ivory skin, and luminous hair
a knife in her hand
a pen in the other
pick your poison she told me; stir some trouble
from her piercing gaze and wicked smirk I knew
she offered me, a pawn for her games, a decision
however, I had no power to chose at all
so I reached my hand, feeling the weight of my choice
the chaos
and the destruction I would cause.
What would you chose?
The pen refers to emotions, and the knife refers to actions.
Part two will come someday.
398 · Dec 2020
numb to love
vern Dec 2020
thoughtless conversations with strangers
make my stomach churn deep down
am I now numb to love
empty flirts with unimportant figures
make a hole grow inside me
am I numb to love
tangling myself with haphazard acquaintances
leaves me walking home in the dark
am I now numb to love
my heart so craves the feeling of warmth
yet my thoughts wish to be alone
I wish to be free of this curse
free from being numb to love
idk i feel like I've never actually liked anyone and I don't know how to do relationships therefore I don't feel like I have ever loved anyone. Anyone else feel that way
384 · May 2019
a day to drown
vern May 2019
on my calender, I have marked
the perfect day to drown.
for the day I will drown will be the most tranquil of them all
the ocean will be perfectly still, not a wave in sight.
the moon high above will not pull the tide.
the creatures in the sea will travel away.
for the day I will drown will be the quietest of them all
the world around me will watch in silence
as I walk towards the center of the ocean
and lie down to drown
the only ripples will be from my steps
for I have chosen to drown
a choice of my own, not the ocean's
my body will sink as if I'm drifting asleep
my bed of water will slowly lower down
to the bottom of the ocean
for it is the perfect day to drown
I try to write with a meaning behind it, so when AP Lit classes read my random poems they can overanalyze them. This isn't about death, it's not about dying, even though that's one of the hashtags. It's just about finding peace of mind and calming down. It's about sinking away from problems. It's about sleeping and being calm. I'm just very drawn to the ocean and I love poems about water and the ocean.
vern Jun 2019
dearly beloved
I have gathered my pen and paper
to send you love from another world
I've stashed this note in a bottle
and threw it into the air
so I shall not know whether you got my love
whether you even care
I apologize for I left your world without a word
I didn't belong there but I found I belong here
I belong somewhere
and it is not there, it is here
and it is not with you, it is with me
I am regifting the lies that were gifted by you
you are no longer a concept that plagues my mind
do you think about me my beloved
I don't think about you
the thought saddens me so I refuse
I'd rather stay happy and live in ignorance
that you ever existed
these empty feelings on paper will finally disappear
to a place I do not know
well, once knew but have long forgotten
this is my first note and my final note
I'm sending you love from another world
and I will never send it to you again
for this world is my own, and I don't want to share
It's been awhile. This isn't my best work, but it's something.
353 · Jun 2019
to see or not to see
vern Jun 2019
there is so much I want to see
wonders I've never glanced at
art I've never seen
skies I've never gazed at
seas I've never looked at
homes I've never peered at
there is so much I want to see
and yet I still haven't opened my eyes yet
that is the question
321 · Apr 2019
the alpine landscape
vern Apr 2019
The long journey ahead seemed so far from home
The road astray and the ground blue
He looked ahead with hopes close to none
“A better life,” said Father, which can’t be true

The long journey ahead seemed so dreary and dull
A mountain looked down and towered the two
Covered in thick clouds and a single gull
The trees spoke in tongues with a silent adieu

The long journey ahead was nearly complete
He felt his feet sink in the lake
He felt the coldness of the water on his feet
This journey was for a better life, for his sake

The long journey ahead was a few paces away
He felt much better then, everything looked like magic
Filled with wonder for this morning in May
Almost there, no turning back, life won’t be so tragic

The long journey that was once long
Had felt like no time at all
This is a poem I had to write for a class about a painting called the alpine landscape
289 · Oct 2019
a bitter dream
vern Oct 2019
when I woke up this morning
I rose with an unpleasant feeling
the shards of last night's dream
pierced my skin and cut my soul
strange hands grasped my neck
choking sweet feelings and filling them with horror
the memories of the past loomed over
feelings I thought I had forgotten, resurfaced
when I woke up this morning
my breaths unsteady and my face stained with tears
I feared for my next dream
sometimes you have nightmares and it *****
237 · Apr 2020
welcoming the poison
vern Apr 2020
my soul aches again as another unsteady sorrow slowly moves through my veins
I have welcomed another poison yet again
the chalice filled with despair
will forever entice me
an unyielding hands tips it against my lips
the cursed glass meets my mouth
and a drop of that toxic spill slithers down my throat
it’s rancid taste should repulse me
the horrid bitterness and burning brings tears to my eyes
but I can’t refuse this goblet of misery
for I am an addict
I hate so many things right now and I write when I’m sad and it’s honestly my best writing but I want to write happy. I was selfish and asked people to reach out and check in and I do every year and every year I’m left hanging and alone and I’m ******* tired of expecting anything. These made up expectations I do to myself are just so stupid and I want to stop but I can’t help it. It’s nice to pour it out to strangers who don’t understand but they can appreciate pretty words strung together. Thank u strangers
223 · Jun 2019
weary
vern Jun 2019
I've grown to be wearier every day
I’m tired of caring whether everyone likes me or not.
Whether the way people perceive me is bearable or not.
I’m tired of feeling that the world
and everyone around me would be better off if I just died or disappeared,
selfish I know.
I’m tired of the lack of motivation
I have because my brain thinks
I should stare at a wall
instead of doing something productive.
I’m tired of always comparing myself and
always thinking I’m not good enough.
I’m tired of overthinking every tiny
thing the people I care about do around me.
I’m tired of wondering whether or not I give more or whether I don’t give enough.
I’m tired of lying
about the headaches I get in the morning
because I cried myself to sleep,
I’m tired of lying to my friends
and saying I don’t feel well
instead of meeting them
because something else is worrying me.
I’m just tired.
And I'm done being tired.
So tomorrow I hope to get a goodnight's rest
and triumph through the day
without even the slightest unrest
no notes today
198 · Jul 2020
paper soul
vern Jul 2020
i pour my soul out
on paper to feel alive
but is that living?
a poorly written haiku about how I sometimes don't feel real
187 · Apr 2020
a hard pill to swallow
vern Apr 2020
have I deluded myself into thinking I am a good person
have a I lied to myself saying that it was just a mistake
have I tricked myself into believing I have not hurt others
I think I have
I only write poems when I’m sad this sh*t *****. Idk but is it just me or in this quarantine bs all the negative thoughts are coming. I’ve lost something because I threw it away thinking that was right but was I wrong to do so
172 · May 2020
staring at the wall
vern May 2020
they sat up on their bed
staring at the empty wall ahead
what was once covered with pictures and art
beautiful memories and dreams
was now empty with chipped paint and tape residue
a soft spirit walked in and held their hand
“what’s wrong?” she asked
they didn’t speak for the words could barely escape their tongue
they stared at the barren wall
“won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
they opened their mouth
a single tear slid down their stained cheeks
they could barely speak
but they could get out one word
“everything”
again idk what I’m doing
154 · May 2020
the summer heat
vern May 2020
the warm and tepid air fills the room
like a fog on a misty April morning
it’s 3 am and the feeling or weariness is gone
and replaced with longing and migraines
isolation and frustration
a blanket covers half my body
it’s just so ******* hot  
the summer heat has only just begun
and it’s not going away
not for a long time
This one isn’t good and I might redo it but idk just wanted to post
130 · Feb 2020
muse
vern Feb 2020
my words and thoughts are always in utter disarray
they're a heap of empty meanings
and a clutter of disconnected thoughts
they spill from my mouth and onto a paper
my words have never meant much
they've never coaxed a subject
or any object of desire
my words pour up and out from my gut
they're just a nonsensical jumble of expression
but now something has changed
within the foggy mess of my mind
there now exists a muse
a subject or object of desire
now I've never minded the disorder
nor have I ever wanted a muse
but now that muse has come to me
I hope, I really hope, it never disappears
It's been a long time since I've written anything. I've been sitting on this poem for awhile. I really hope ya'll like it.

— The End —