Momma's Good Boy, You Say?

Some people weave their lies with smooth words, hoping to shape you into something you’re not. They prey on your vulnerability, believing you’re an easy target. But what happens when the truth rises, and the lies fade away?

Good boy.
The words slip off your tongue
Like oil on water,
Masking the truth
That clings to your fingers—
Dirty, grasping, cold.

You called yourself my friend,
Whispered your way into my cracks,
Where monsters used to live,
And built a new kind of hell.

A woman, you thought,
Too fragile, too broken,
A low flame; easy to snuff.
But you forget:
A smouldering ember burns hotter than fire.

You sought to carve me into shame,
Your hands measuring my worth
Against the curve of your lust.
But this skin—my skin—
Is not yours to claim.

Do you see me now?
I’ve stepped out of the shadows you cast,
Standing taller than the lies you tell yourself.
Your "Momma’s good boy" act
Won’t save you from the truth:
You are no man.

And I—
I am no one’s prey,
No one’s guilt to carry.
My worth is a fortress
You will never breach.

So crawl back
To your hollowed-out pride,
And don’t look for me
In the cracks.

I’ve sealed them all.

No longer a victim to their games, you rise from the darkness they tried to keep you in. The cracks they thought they'd exploit are now sealed, and the fortress of your worth stands strong—untouchable, unbreakable.

Comments

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.

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.

Till You Sing

Some would say men went to war for women like you, But I would still choose war if it meant choosing you. You say you write in amorous lines, But I would let you be the woman of my tribe. You had your adventures Under The Buda Moon, But have you been loved past noon? So I can see you shine like a magical flower, In the quiet warmth of the golden hour. The invisible strings pull at my heart Can I do justice to your name? Caress you right, Till you sing like a Carnatic hymn. Inspired by the author of Under The Buda Moon, Veena Rao

Cruising Alone

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