Skip to main content

Poison Apple

 


Baby, I am no Snow White,
I am hardly fairest of them all.
You can try your best to take my kingdom,
And have me take a fall.

I am not afraid to crawl through a sewage pipe,
Give and take 500 yards—
And still rise to the top,
No matter how much you fumble up with my dealt cards.

You can drench that tasty treat,
And act as if you had me beat.
But if you try to poison me,
I will spit it right back on your face—
Because I walk my own road,
Not a rat like you,
Who tried to play me and then said
I am stuck in a maze.

You are no one's charming prince,
Let everyone see you wince.
The fact you said you'd rather be with a dumb one,
That you are happy you dodged an effing c*nt...
That you would rather climb someone tall,
And that I am only a runt...
If that's true,
Go ahead and do a witch hunt.

Because you can try—
But I rise from ashes,
No matter how much I am burnt.

Comments

Popular Posts

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