Out of Touch

You tell me so casually
To sit it out, to deal with it,
So that nobody sees the cracks
In the temple you built
Even if it tears me apart.

The Human Condition

Trying to pave my roads along the way
Because if dreams had a map,
They would still lead me off the beaten track,
They would thrust me into uphill battles,
Make me swim through murky waters,
And I would march through misery
Enchanted by the destination’s charm.

Inspired by the Fear of Being Average

Why be average when you can be a prodigy, an extraordinare, a virtuoso? This argument seems very sensible on face value and the temptation to buy it doesn’t just come from cognitive fallacies but also the ongoing work culture and socio- cultural corpus. Every cog of the economy makes money off of being ‘outstanding’ or having the ability to make you stand out- think of coaching institutions or consulting giants, it boils down to the same premise.

Afternoon Poets

For sleep comes when worry leaves;
It is too timid to confront the phantoms of the past.
Not us, though- we have laid there quietly,
Wrestling the noisy demons in our head
Till our limbs grew weary at the crack of dawn.

‘Tis the Szn: Navigating Anxiety and Depressing Feelings during the Holidays

If it seems like everybody came out of 2024 wearing tiaras and sashes while the only thing which keeps you from being empty handed is a string of disappointments, you are still heard and seen. If it feels as if the best part of the year is its coming to an end, your feelings are still valid.

Officially 18

It is daunting to be eighteen,
To be an “adult” on legal papers
When you have the meandering mind
Of a teenager;
To carry the unrelenting boulder
Of people’s expectations on your
Bruised and bent shoulders,
When you can just shrug at best
On being asked about future plans.

She

There is an unsettling thunder in her gait,
An outright mockery in her smirk;
Her half-closed eyes speak of a defiance
That cannot be defeated.
She pinches pain in those
Tight-lipped smiles of hers,
And burns all hate in her retinas.

What weapons could ever destroy her?
She is the war herself.
Armed with a silent endurance,
Clutched close to her bosom.

Breathe

And when I feel stuck in the doldrums of life,
When nothing seems to move anymore,
When I slip down the dark abyss of nothingness,
And my eyes simply don’t wish to search for the light anymore,
I take a breath.
I breathe in the air
That is moist with the tears of poets,
Ringing with the pain of musicians,
Whispering in my ears, the beautiful stories of many unpublished writers,

Wildflower🌼

The valley abounds in roses and tulips,
But I’m partial to those
That peek out of rugged rocks,
Showering in torrential rainfall,
You clap with the rumbles of thunder,
The montane breeze murmurs in your ears,
And you’re all but tickled by heatwaves.

Too Young

Clouds, delicate and feathery,
Dancing in the sky
To the beat of the winds;
Too wild to stop here,
Too young to know
Where to go next.