Clarity Unveiled

Now that my brain is gaining clarity,
And all the voices have finally died down,
I see how you played with my confusion,
Using my search for answers to claim your crown.

You hate it now that I’m asserting myself,
No longer swayed by your deceitful grin.
You can't brush it off with “I was young, drunk,”
Take some accountability for your own sin.

It’s funny how you cried when your father’s business fell,
Lamenting the system that treated you unwell.
Yet when I sought my truth, my peace of mind,
You told me to run along, gold biscuits in line—
Dangling them as if they'd make me go blind.

You hate when the world judges you and calls you names,
But you keep calling others the same.
You think you can keep me quiet? Control my voice?
You took pride in saying, “What do you even have?”—your cruel choice.
Then you act like a friend, a benefactor, with a “good worldview,”
But deep down, power and money are all that drive you.

You only want to show people who’s the boss,
And treat them as beneath you when they make you cross.
I may be only five feet tall, but trust me,
I’d take you on without missing a beat.

You called me psycho, a nutjob too,
While I was just trying to make sense of the view.
Searching for calm in a stormy brain,
You found laughter in my mental strain.

You claim to care for your kin and kith,
But took advantage of my empathy myth.
Used my compassion, my flawed devotion,
To keep me trapped in your twisted motion.

Now I stand tall, assertive and clear,
Your manipulations no longer cause fear.
I see the irony in your angry cries,
And I refuse to bow down to your lies.

~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse

Comments

My Tips Get The Job Done

Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE works. You get high on your stupid WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach me about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my ladyfingers ...

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Call Your Wife... Call Your Mother...

Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

Cruising Alone

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