Writing my emotions
I’m not always happy.
Even when I’m smiling
I’m not happy.
There’s something wrong.
Something isn’t right.
I don’t like this place,
But it’s my own mind.
It’s getting dark inside.
I need some light.
Where’s the air?
Why can’t I breathe?
I need something to hold.
I need someone.
Something’s not right.
That smile on my face,
It’s not mine.
Who’s is it?
See my truth.
Someone look through the mask.
Someone pull it aside.
Someone pull me out.
Help me escape.
Help me get out.
Where, oh where, did my innocence go?
Is it that dark basement,
where you tried to grope
parts of me that hadn’t yet bloomed?
Where, oh where, did my softness go?
Is it in that ugly room,
where you manhandled me
in ways I didn’t know to exist?
Where, oh where, did my period go?
Is it in that school hallway,
where you sexually assaulted me
and had the authorities cover up?
Where, oh where, did my achievements go?
Are they in that little tube-well room,
where you sedated and molested me
because Daddy was running late?
Where, oh where, did my life go?
Is it in that temple,
where you hid me and raped me
because I was a girl and you a ‘man’?
Where, oh where, did your conscience go?
Is it in that womb,
where you were nurtured for nine months
so that you could become a rapist?
Where, oh where, did your control go?
Is it under that roof,
where your sister and mother seek you
to protect them, but you’re busy raping?
Where, oh where, did your heart go?
Is it in your ‘tool’,
where you’re waiting for it to be chopped
and fed to the dogs because you raped someone?
picture courtesy: Pinterest
they told me i was over reacting
i was trying to express myself
they told me i was making a fuss
i held back another sob
they told me to behave
i didn’t want to listen
to their demands
when they chose to ignore mine
they told me not to shout
but how could i not
when every minute they spoke words
which stabbed my heart like stakes
they told me i couldn’t
so i didn’t
they told me to be me
but bound me in restrictions
they didn’t understand
how it felt to be crashing against rocks
through a storm they created
and trying to get out alive
they told me i wasn’t loved
then they chose to ignore me
and i needed to let out my frustration
so i spoke harmless words
they yelled at me for speaking
because other things were more important
while i suppressed another sob
and i hid away in the darkness
they pointed out my flaws
said i was a disappointment
didn’t listen to a word i had to say
and i sobbed in the bathroom
they didn’t hear
i didn’t let them hear
didn’t tell them out of fear
that they might yell at me some more
they want no reason
to be angry
so i will cut away
the one reason they have
Throw down your guns,
toss aside every bullet.
She doesn’t need your holes,
she feels hollow already.
Get rid of every sharp thing,
you’ve used at her.
She’s looking for them now,
she wants to slit her wrists.
All your words strtuck her,
in her heart like lightning.
They were like thunder,
to the scared girl inside.
Those flaws you saw on her skin,
they’re reflections of your own.
She’s always been flawless,
she thinks otherwise, though.
Everything you said or did,
might not have been visible to your eyes.
She knows she’s not okay,
she has scars on the inside of her.
“hang on”
i said
“to what?”
he asked
“keep going”
i told him
“Alright”
he replied
“you can”
i tried
“hopefully”
he didn’t believe
and today,
he said those words
to me
but i didn’t reply
And today
my thoughts overpowered me
i didn’t react
i didn’t care
“hang on”
“keep going”
“you can”
but i couldn’t
nothing to hang onto
nothing to keep going for
i didn’t see another way
I’m sorry it happened
i stopped caring
long ago
but now
i stopped feeling too
text showed up
on a lit screen
never to find a reply,
my fingers were cold.
She was alone,
but not for long.
She tried hiding under the blanket,
but the shadow appeared in the doorway.
She tried to keep quiet,
but a whimper escaped her.
She tried to stay still,
but her body still shivered.
She tried to stop him,
but his hands were unstoppable.
She tried to cover herself,
but he ripped off her clothes.
She tried to say “no”,
but all she let out were tears.
She wanted him to go,
but he forced himself onto her.
She couldn’t bear the pain,
but he wouldn’t stop.
She sobbed and moaned,
but he didn’t care.
She finally pushed him away,
but he didn’t leave just yet.
She saw him pull out his belt,
but didn’t see what came next.
She was bruised and bloody,
he tightened the porous end around his fist.
She shakily pulled the blanket over her naked self,
he walked out of the room, smugly.
She cried softly while dressing herself,
but never let him hear.
She knew her wounds would heal, maybe scar,
but she would never get used to this hurt
I looked at him,
into his eyes.
I rarely ever did,
but I couldn’t control it.
Maybe it was instinct.
I helped him get ready,
I had lovingly picked out
his clothes for the evening,
down to his tie and cuff-links.
Maybe it was instinct.
I watched him gel his hair,
tie his shoelaces,
and pull on his coat
over a crisp, white shirt.
Maybe it was instinct.
I shut the door afterhim,
almost immediately wanting him to return.
A knock on the door
told me he did.
Maybe it was instinct.
He pocketed his phone,
said he forgot something, and with a smile,
hugged me and dropped a kiss on my head,
and then he left.
Maybe it was instinct.
I sat on the edge of my chair,
fidgeted with my clothes.
I got up to do some work,
then sat back down.
Maybe it was instinct.
I picked up my phone,
sent him a message,
“hey honey, come back soon,
I’d love to be by your side today.”
Maybe it was instinct.
Half an hour later,
he called me.
“I’ll be home in a couple of hours,
hang tight, don’t worry.”
Maybe it was instinct.
“Alright, but i don’t know why,
something seems off today.”
Then i knew it.
I heard it, loud and clear.
Maybe it was instinct.
“Maa” he whispered,
as soon as i heard the shot.
He moaned, fell,
And I did too.
Maybe it was instinct.
Then I pictured it,
His beautiful face filled with agony,
his white shirt soaked red.
his life slipping away from him.
Maybe it was instinct.
The day that I once cherished,
Now had a different reason
to be etched in my mind forever,
with me till I died, like him.
Maybe it was instinct.
It was his birthday,
the happiest day of his life,
now the saddest of mine.
He was gone, I was empty.
Maybe it was instinct.
~~~~
Thousands of mothers lose their children to terrorism, crime and other ruthless murderers. This was a brief story of a boy going out to celebrate his birthday with his friends, but his mother’s instinct warned her that something could go wrong. Like several children who were gunned down by terrorists in restaurants in Indian metropolitan cities like Bangalore and Mumbai IRL, he too was killed at the venue. And all his mother could to was to hear her child’s life slowly slip away from him, breath by breath.
it’s 3:00 a.m,
we’re fighting over chat.
There’s a movie in the background,
no heed to that.
You’re hurt,
I’m upset.
It’s all gone wrong,
my pillow is wet.
It’s one of those days,
we don’t know what to do.
I’m hoping it’ll work out,
can’t really lose you.
I’ve messed up,
you’re done with me,
But please,don’t give up,
I think it’s meant to be.
not another care in the world,
not another sound to be heard.
don’t worry about us,
there isn’t a third.
Forget those times,
there’s nothing about them.
For now, I know that
I’m losing me a gem.
You’re slowly slipping away,
into the darkness around.
There’s a confidence in you,
bold, newly found.
No, don’t go,
it’s 3:00 a.m.
but you’re the one I think of
even at 3:00 p.m.
“Get lost”,
you say.
But I’m too clingy,
And it’s already day.
It’s gone too far,
I’m ready to give up.
Sitting up in my bed,
I drink some water from my cup.
Suddenly, it’s all good,
we’re both tired,
but everything’s alright,
and now, together we’re wired.
Red like the blood
flowing through my veins,
Red like the hoodie
hiding me from the cold.
Orange like the sun
setting behind the trees,
Orange like the pen
scribbling in my notebook.
Yellow like the cup
holding all my pens,
Yellow like the post-its
reminding me to do stuff i won’t.
Green like the marker
lying with its cap open,
Green like the grass
rustling in the wind.
Blue like the sky
turning dark by the minute,
Blue like my hair-tie,
holding no hair at all.
Indigo like the paper cutter
opening and closing in my hand,
Indigo like the empty jar of cream
now filled with little paper cranes.
Violet like the paper crane
longing to leave my desk,
Violet like the roll of tape
sitting unused in the dispenser.
Black like the darkness
waiting for thee,
Black like the death
that’s waiting for me.
He thought he was broken,
too torn apart to be put together.
he was done,
his was a face of a lost soul.
But, she saw him,
she saw his sad,beautiful eyes,
and his sculpted face,
so she took a shot.
He heard it,
whipped around, enraged,
he saw her standing,
the weapon in her hands.
Then, she showed him,
with a little smile,
what she held in her hand,
and he gave in.
She handed it to him,
and he wiped his eyes,
she took his hand,
and she led him through.
He couldn’t have been happier,
in that dimly lit room,
where he saw the face in his mirror,
hanging everywhere.
Grins, giggles, and grim expressions,
it all changed his soul,
her camera saved his life,
and he put up the photograph too.
Random Thoughts of Sushi 