can't stop thinking
you, always a damsel
but what happens dear
when no one comes to
save you?
...
Do you have it in you,
that fire, that spark
to be your own hero?

Life is so harsh
perhaps that's why
nature gave us
flowers and butterflies
to help us forget the pain
even if only
for a moment.

Once there was a girl
Who was as beautiful as a shining pearl.

She was her father’s princess,
And for her mother, an ocean of happiness.

Her angelic smile was contagious.
Amidst her laughter and giggles, she was a genius.

She would paint and play all day—
“A chirpy little girl,” they would say.

One day, suddenly, her life changed;
A storm came by, unexplained.

She stood there strong at the age of seven,
When people her age live in heaven.

The storm went by after a year,
and left her shattered in tears.

Her mind was flooded with memories that were bad;
She ceased to smile, as she was sad.

The misery did not end there—
Another storm could be sensed in the air.

She endured that too, silently;
Her mind was left with another bad memory.

The storms ceased to leave her,
And the memories became even more bitter.

But she managed it all so well—
No one knew she was living in hell.

But one day, she could take it no longer.
She decided to give up, not knowing she was stronger.

She now turned to medication and pills,
because she could no longer deal with the ills.

Suddenly, on her darkest night,
She found her brightest light.

What brought in the brightest light?
The realisation that she could fight.

All this jewellery,
What for can it be?

Earrings you got at birth,
What are they worth?
They are with you
Always

Exchanging friendship bracelets,
The expectations it sets.
Best friends
Forever

Necklaces from family,
Might not know what you see.
They’re still there for you
Truly

Engagement and wedding rings,
More than beautiful things.
Boyfriends, girlfriends—lives entwine,
Becoming husbands, wives in time.

A statuette of Durga,
alluring goddess of

divine destruction
and new creation,

in her sky blue and
cloudy white robes,

on a shelf above the
swirling gray smoke of

a burning unfiltered
cigarette in the

sunny orange ashtray
on the kitchen table-

top the color of the
churning stormy sea.

Your beauty may sway in
a flowerbed of innocence,
why do I wish to destroy it,
Can we justify,
the corruption
the floating of leaves,
sparkling of green,
with red of autumn,
and lose the hymns?

I can't pretend
to be clean,
if loneliness
of pink petals
can't
justify
the evil-ness.
of a shape,
moves
logically,
to
exit left
of poison,
darkness
bleeding.

I hate the way,
I love.....
the way....
before
these days.