Cruising Alone

  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 ...

  So, you say you have a sister, and now you have to take care of another? That you want to live up to your father's name, and you can't read about my pain, and nothing's the same? Did you forget that your father saw his own daughter in me... when we didn't even know if we were supposed to be? And I couldn't even look in my father's eyes... because I trusted a coward's lies... while you went about building his incomplete legacy... My father's head hung low because of your discrepancy. He saw his daughter cry for years... and aren't you the one who said you hated my tears? So go on, take your glass of whiskey and say cheers... because you only made me stronger than my fears. You might have broken me and left me for dead— but always remember: I am a father's daughter. What you broke, he built every day. Blamed himself for my crooked ways. He tried to shield me when no one was around... and you thought you could laugh at me while I was on the ground...

  One fine day, tired of "always my way," I reached for comfort, or maybe just a craving. Picked up a spotted cucumber— Seemed harmless enough, so why not? But the moment I touched it, it pricked. Unwanted timber in my hands, Yet I let it be—what else could I do? Hunger led me to peel its layers, Only to find the filth it hid underneath. Worms writhing where freshness should be, Rot, disguised as something nourishing. I thought it was doing me a favor, But all it did was make me sick. Never knew comfort could leave such a taste— Bitter enough to spill my guts out. Next time, I’d rather reach for something rich, Something warm, indulgent, and worth my time. A smooth, chocolaty éclair— Rather than ever go for such a comfortable, unhealthy affair.

  You might crave your new woman’s touch, long for her embrace like a cherished clutch— but I have wanted to self-immolate because of your touch. Run around, claim you’ve won a jackpot , but it’s not rejection I fear— it’s your filthy gaze, your uninvited touch . You said you were being cruel to be kind? I’d love to press rewind. You begged for my love first, but now you chase another— just hunger, no soul. I know how it feels to be touched without permission . Yet, you—relentless—pressed me to submit, to erase my no as if it never existed. While you laughed, busy painting me as a rejected soul, I spent nights undoing every single touch . So go ahead, call me vile— but even after all that, I was good to you.

  Would you like to explore societal norms, gender expectations, Or personal struggles against limiting beliefs? I’ll tell you one thing, but you better listen— I won’t let you define me, not even for a second. The body you lusted for is a body I hated being born in. And you laugh, saying you "hurt my ego" and "hit me below the belt." Did I harass you? Are you going to talk about equality and respect with me? Have you ever respected anyone for simply existing? No, you have not. Because every time, it's: "What do you have to offer? Your 'fayada'?" Or "Why should I come to you? What do you even have?" If that is the case, then I had no fat on my chest as a kid too, But that still did not stop a man. Or when I was simply walking down the street, And a man groped me between my thighs in broad daylight. And you still think I wanted your money? That you would be good for my image? You, who crave money, power, and status, So a policeman does...

  Brought me down to my knees? You can't even strut on those flat feet. I had to pull myself down because you envied my crown. Did I need to latch on to you to make a name? Boy, that's indeed so lame. I am far above the superficial fame. I hoped you would take a stand, But being with you was like drowning in quicksand. I might have lost my head for a while, But I am not dead and can still rock a smile. You may be fair but you never played fair. You are a great jester, you claimed. True, real queens hire you to keep them entertained. Never saw this side? Please, I was never meant to hide. Even if I cried, God knows I tried. Listen to Adele all you want, I dance to my own song. "We could have it all"? If only you had never made me feel small. "I am in too deep"? Who told you I was yours to keep? You only came for what I can give, Never to actually love. Chasing "dumb feminine" women but never being masculine enough. And still, you say I am not a norm...

  Actions speak louder than words, But my words will bring your actions out in the open. Kept calling me crazy, Maybe your memory is hazy. No, I won’t back down. Go ahead and frown. Try parading her, Because you only enjoy crumpling every fleur. Then act like a good guy, Laugh out loud thinking you hurt a woman’s ego—a big sigh. Everything that suits you goes by your choice, Yet you treat girls like one of your toys. Boys like you who think they’re doing a favour, When they talk to a woman with respect. Believing that since Maa Lakshmi graces your pockets, You can go around poking your rockets. But your souls are blind and have marbles in those sockets. Did I show my true colours? Go ahead then, build up your case. Sure, I am the one who is such a disgrace. Actions speak louder than words, But my words will bring your actions out in the open. Equating a woman’s worth with words like “tight,” And you think I am always ready to fight and have lost my sight. But you’re a big meat of c...

When I was quieter, more reserved, and unable to communicate the depths of my pain, they called me calm, motherly, and nurturing. They admired what they saw as my gentleness, unaware of the storm I kept buried inside. But when I finally began to stand up for myself—to voice the ways I had been hurt, the pain I had endured, and the things I had dealt with—I became a “psychopath,” a “nutjob,” someone to be pitied. Suddenly, I had “no self-esteem,” and my assertiveness was too much for them to handle. Isn’t it ironic? The very person who said I needed to stand up for myself tried to snuff out my voice the moment it became inconvenient for them. They talked about being a “good person,” about respecting women because they had a mother and a sister. But where was that respect when they mocked my pain, dismissed my struggles, and invalidated my truth? This poem is my response to their hypocrisy—a voice they couldn’t silence. So, when I tried to confront you with all the ways you hurt me, With...

I wrote this poem after listening to Lana Del Rey’s “F ked My Way Up To The Top,” a song that resonated with my own experiences of betrayal and disillusionment.  I guess no one would know, Everyone assumes I am here for a shallow show. Scheming and waiting for the right moment, To put my soul in an endless torment. If that were true, I'd be climbing another pole, Not dig deep and go down the rabbit hole. Easy to throw these pebbles and stones, And I’ll take it until I'm just flesh covered in bones. They say they don’t like my tone, Maybe it’s because I’m in a different time zone. Yeah, love to throw in words like "b*tch" and "wh*re," But they imagined what it would be like to have them on their floor. You talk of God, love, and life partner, Then ask questions like, "What's your favourite colour?" As if I’m a kindergartner. Umm, well I was learning about the xylem, And still, they would have me stay in a mental asylum. Picking on girls with bic...

It’s hard when you give so much of yourself, only to watch others discard it like it meant nothing. But there’s a fire inside that no one can take away. How do you reclaim your light after someone’s departure? Some people don’t care who they hurt, Chasing pleasures with hearts inert. They leave behind pieces, broken trust, While I’m left grieving, swept like dust. I gave my soul, my love so true, But they just played, then bid adieu. Their hearts were rusted, cold, unkind, Seeking magic I’d confined. They moved on, roles neatly played, While I stayed lost in what we’d made. They took my light, then walked away, Leaving shadows in my day. But I’m not dust to blow apart; I know the strength within my heart. They can’t steal the fire I hold— Even rust can’t dim pure gold. Even in moments of heartbreak, there’s a resilience we often forget to acknowledge. How do you rise after others have tried to dim your shine?