I remember you
Holding both my hands
                                In your palm
Raised above my head
You bathed me
                 Sang nursery rhymes
With eyes that outshone surroundings

Now it is I
That holds both your hands
                       Talking of love
                       Reassurance
With eyes that outshine reality

I wish you’d rise above it all
And be the person I thought I saw.
The loving parent I dreamed you’d be,
Cherishing your kids unconditionally.
But once again, I see the truth—
That dream was never meant for you.

You taught us right from wrong, it’s true,
But failed to practice what you knew.
Believing yourself better than the rest,
Yet you’re no top-notch, high-class success.
Not even the middle ground you aspired to be,
But the dollar store version of what a parent shouldn’t be.

Your children are shattered, broken, and torn,
But instead of reflection, you point and scorn.
Blaming others, yet blind to this fact:
Every hand shaped the pain we’ve packed.
One told us love wasn’t ours to claim,
That our worth was tied to our weight and shame.
Another sought love and found none to give,
While one taught us grace in how to live.
The rest hid away, their courage sold,
Leaving us with lessons both cruel and cold.

But you, you’re the real masterstroke—
You taught us to carry everyone’s yoke.
To put ourselves last, to give and give,
Till there’s nothing left in us to live.
Now we’re all broken in different ways—
One’s near the grave, another astray,
And the last just fights to make it through the day.

They cry softly at night, their breath so thin,
You wouldn’t notice—it doesn’t fit in.
All they’ve ever wanted was to make you proud,
To feel seen, even once, above the crowd.
But your plans for them twist and betray,
Stealing their hope and their dreams away.

You rob them of money, of land, of peace,
All for a façade that will never cease.
Chasing a life to save face at work,
Pretending you’re more than a person who shirks.
But the truth is plain for all to see—
You’ve failed them, and you’ve failed me.

I could sentimentalise,
throw flowers on your memory
agonise the opportunity to part with any gratuity,
wish you could see every success
through meaningless desire to conjure what never was
what never will be.

As you ebbed away to degeneration,
every strip of dignity
was a drop in the temperature of your cold stare
that epitomised our tenuous connection.

Even if truth be told,
would there be anyone to understand
how you created something so arbitrarily
only to derivatively destroy it?

I'm afraid that if I die

People wont know things only I know

Like how N likes their carrots

Or how L loves her dad

Only I know this, like this

Of course others know some of this too, some of the time

But no one

Not one single person knows that you

You two

Are perfect

I mean this literally

I was gifted this knowledge when you were born

I know this viscerally, like this.

Or that you're beautiful in ways that make me hate words

In ways that render language hollow, meaningless, obscene

I am not being dramatic.

And also that you are good

By which I mean loveable

Like very and always

Fundamentally, inherently

This is not something you can ever change even though you'll probably try

And you might convince other people

Maybe even your dad, or your therapist, or your lover, or yourself

But you'll never convince me

I don't know why

I just know this

And I need you to know this too

I found a tiny piece of paper
With something scribbled on it
It reads,
"You are not worthless
Work hard and shut everyone's
**** mouth with it"
I smiled and remembered
I wrote it when I was scolded
By my mother in front of my whole class
When I got really bad marks in my Maths test(Ps:still a nightmare).
She screamed and said
"You can't do anything"
Also she said she is ashamed to even come to attend my PTM.
I was so humiliated at that time I cried like a 3 year old. Also everyone got their share of gossip.
I WAS THE JOKE NOW.
Now everytime anyone saw me studing , enacted like my mother in front of me. Or even worse....they would say "Dude padh le varna aunty na....she is very strict na..''
At that time I had no choice to study and keep myself motivated (thus I wrote this paper).

Final exams results came
I got highest marks in my class and have done extremely good in my maths test.
I was so happy and contented.
Every joke on me had an answer now.

Now what is the need to share this incident.?
Actually there is....I just want to question each parent why they attach their status in the society with the marks of their children ???
See I will not say what my mom did was wrong because her intension was in the right place.. infact her words ignited the fuel inside me. (She knows how to use the reverse psychology)

Also marks can be improved by either ways but why we adopt the strict one all the time???

JUST TAKE A MOMENT AND THINK ABOUT IT.
(Cuz your whole life must have faced this scenario once in your life).

Also share your opinions on this story.

Routine. Make sure you have it. Whether it be taking a shower and brushing your teeth every morning, or it is smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of coffee. I need you to have a routine sweetheart, it'll serve you when you're in high school.

2. Don't use violence. Treat others the way you want to be treated. The violence part? I know, easier said than done, but your dad had such a hard time in high school. He was suspended and almost got battery charges for hitting a girl. Also, your dad went to jail for abusing the effing crap out of your grandmother.  So trust me please, when I say violence is not the answer.

3. Read. Write. Create. Repeat. Read John Green, Neil Hilborn, and Savannah Brown. Write as though your soul is on fire and this is the only way to put it out. Write every day, write about pain, guilt, shame, suffering. Write about all the bad things, but also show those glimmers of hope. Create. Make art that shocks and makes people think. Make masterpieces. Make art you don't like. Whatever you do, just make art. Do it because your dad would. Do it for the world. You have so much potential.

4. Don't join Facebook. You will get preconditioned to the fact Facebook is a right of passage and a sense of freedom, but trust me, it isn't. It'll turn you from an artist to one who searches for love in all the wrong places. One who strives off likes, and hearts, and good reactions. It will make you feel worthless on those days you get zero shares from the status you thought was golden. I love you and you can do this.

5. This one is hard for me to say, especially considering I'm one of many whose done it, but don't attempt suicide. You'll regret it the moment it doesn't work and cry the moment you realize what you've done. I will let you know regardless if it works or not, the amount of pain you put others in: will not change. There will always be pain. I love you sweetheart and you can do this.

6. Listen to loads of music. This should be your drug of choice. I'll make you a playlist of all your padre's favorite songs. Music does wonders. Music soothes, helps you create, lets you let it out, and the list goes on and on.

7. Discover yourself; embrace that. Whether you be gay, straight, or bi. Whether you're happy, sad, or content. Whether you're ill or not ill. BE YOURSELF. Be so much yourself, you have the amount of confidence of a great white shark. Those *******, those animals are CONFIDENT. (19 year old me would also like to insert that werk it qween is a totally acceptable phrase)

8. You are made of magic. You have the bones of stars and the eyes of bravery. Anywhere you walk is going to be a place where everyone knows your presence. You walk on red carpets of kindness and love, but also you smile bigger than anyone in the room.

See her? Yeah, she's my daughter. She's my light, life, and reason to function on bad days. She brings me so much joy that the only way to describe it is, become an addict, go into foster care and lose everything you've ever known for ~1.5 years, and then uproot yourself into the adult life, 1 day after graduating. After you've completed those steps and only managed to need to be resuscitated twice, then you get to go onto the pile of adult ******* that entails: paying bills, overdosing on abused drugs, being forced to sign a 'mutual termination' contract with the place you were living because you had a mental health flare up. Are you still alive? Okay cool, well now you're going to move into sober living and fall in love with the wrong person while being there, get into drugs even more than you were before (ironic, eh,) and now... after all that. You move away from hell. And fall in love with the child you never thought you'd have.  

You bring me so much happiness, it's nearly ridiculous.

I miss you
Myself, recurring
flapping through petals
of time

Rejecting the one by
My parents

Embracing, accepting
the One True Self
born into Mine.