Shattered Wings, Silent Cries

I cut my wings to let you soar,
Lifted you high, while I hit the floor.
Cried in the night when no one could see,
Because your tears were all that mattered to me.

You clung to my strength, while I held your fears,
But when I crumbled, you turned deaf ears.
"Just stop, stop making it rain," you’d say,
While I drowned in the storm and you walked away.

For years, I hid my bruises and scars,
Played the role of your guiding star.
I couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t rest,
Always on guard, giving my best.

Since childhood, I carried this weight,
Making sure you were safe, sealing my fate.
Now my mind’s heavy, begging for release,
Overloaded, desperate for peace.

You read a few articles, think you know it all,
Psychoanalyze me, say I’m ready to fall.
But where were you when I was only ten,
Reading every word, guarding every friend?

Stayed awake so I could protect,
Now I’m sleeping, but you call it neglect.
You think I’m lazy, emotionally weak,
When I’ve been alert every single week.

I tried to be a friend, not for gain,
But to heal the wounds, ease the pain.
I saw what others ignored, I heard what they shunned,
But you laughed, ridiculed, thought you’d won.

Never judged harshly, rumours meant nothing,
Saw you as people making foolish decisions.
But when it’s me, suddenly I’m “too mature for my age,”
Now “too childish” as I turn this page.

I was once responsible, did all things right,
But those achievements fade from sight.
“Why does someone who excelled now fail?”
You question me as if I’m under some spell.

Now my mind feels like a ticking clock,
Wound too tight, ready to knock,
And then I snapped, couldn’t hold it in,
The years of pain—let it begin.
You wondered where this came from, how it all broke,
But I’ve been drowning, and now I’ve spoken.

It wasn’t sudden, it built over time,
Years of silence, now I scream my rhyme.
Ugly and painful, it’s all laid bare,
But now I’m learning how to repair.

Even as I let go, I’m still not clear,
The knots are loosening, but the weight’s still here.
Not just in my mind, but in my bones,
Took years to carry this load alone.

I’m rewiring, learning to feel,
Picking up the pieces that were real.
But it’s still a mess, still a fight,
I’m choosing me, reclaiming my light.

I’ll mend in pieces, not all at once,
Healing’s slow—it’s not for the brunt.
But now I’m ready to take that step,
And I’ll find peace in what’s left.

~ 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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