The Weight Of Light

Do you know what it feels like?
To want to burn your own skin,
Touched by lust, sullied by hunger—
Before I clawed at them, I tore within.

Do you think there’s a reward if I keep moving on?
My soul yearns to be set free, to be gone.
But why did I forget, that my soul and body are mine?
Why was I careless, crossing that line?

Or was I just tired, weary and worn,
Of eyes that devour, with hunger and scorn?
Why did I think, giving to one could suffice,
To shield me from others, to pay the price?

How can I, as a woman, speak of pride,
When I betrayed myself, cast my truth aside?
How could I preach of love and light,
When I surrounded myself in the shadows of night?

Am I not a false prophet, lost in my clouds?
How could I guide, when my heart shouts loud?
Are these words of wisdom just to show?
If I can’t walk my path, how can I help others grow?

How can I make their lives bright,
If I can't carry my own inner light?

~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse

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Polished Sins

A suit and tie, that polished smile, Covering up sins stacked mile by mile. They flaunt “new love,” someone else’s child— A ready-made story, perfectly styled. They’ve “levelled up,” or so they preach, But on someone’s pain, they made their reach, With vows of loyalty, words so neat, While another’s screams lie beneath their feet. Oh, they “moved on” to brighter skies, Leaving someone broken, with silent cries. They mount new heights, they shout and boast— Scaling peaks on another's haunted ghost. So smile for the camera, flash your pride, Show off the life that you tried to hide. For we know the truth beneath your gleam— A hollow show, a self-made scheme.

Stay Away

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Here come the men who love their pride, With “culture” on speed dial, their mothers beside them. They want a wife who’ll light the lamp, While they scroll through pages of virtual vamp. They call themselves leaders, oh so wise, But sex ed is a topic they just despise. If you ask them about anatomy's flow, They’ll stammer, then boast about paychecks to show. Progressive now, they’ll have you believe, Because daughters study, and daughters leave The home to work—but don’t go too far, Or they’ll pull you right back by some invisible bar. They crave the respect, the honour, the fame, Yet when faced with real talk, they’re quick to shame. These "modern men" with their ancient views— One foot in the past, and the other confused. Oh, fools of entitlement, kings of the mud, With egos so fragile, they’re bound to flood At the slightest nudge of applied insight— They’ll laugh, then pull you out of their sight. So here’s to these men, these leaders so grand, With “values” in one, ...

Cruising Alone

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