Cruising Alone

  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.

  Oh, hail the prince from the desert sands, Where ancient stones still tightly clasp The whispers of those silenced hands— Daughters are buried before their first gasp. Times have changed, or so they say, For they no longer bury in clay, But finds new ways to hollow hearts, Leave women ruined, and torn apart. Such men, draped in gentleman’s grace, Polished shoes and a well-dressed face, Hide behind their coat and tie, As if fabric alone could sanctify. Oh, the ones who strayed and sinned with pride, In liquor’s haze and shadows wide— Now deem a woman's rage as a sign unfit, While they rebrand themselves as legit. Laughing once after they tear women down, Now they smirk beneath their crown. For they are the saint in a well-fit suit, While women are the fool who dared refute. The boys who tried to charm us, cloaked in wealth, With rare perfumes and Banarasi silk for stealth, They think can fill the hollow with what money can buy, Blind to the battles raging in our weary eyes. For wo...

  It feels amazing to be me again, The breeze is sweet, the sky’s so clear, I can’t believe my soul had slept, But now I’m back, and full of cheer. I thought I’d left that weight behind, Yet carried it without a clue, But now I feel so free, so light, Alive, with skies a brighter blue. Those bags that once had dragged me down, I’ve tossed them aside, they’re gone for good, I’m dancing through this world again, Charged up, and feeling as I should. With every step, my heart’s awake, I’m moving forward, bold and bright, The past can’t hold me anymore, I’m free, I’m glowing in the light.

  Oh, how foolish I was, to think These monsters could ever be friends, a link. To see the good, where shadows lie, Believing kindness could make them high. They shame me quick before their crowd, While clutching their dreams, heads proud and loud. Lusting in secret, eyes that gleam— But I’m just the rag in their twisted scheme. They mock my words, my style, my stance, Play puppeteer in their heartless dance. But dare I speak a word unkind, About their mother’s saintly mind? Parade as men with hearts so pure, As daughters dance, their future’s cure. Yet here I stand, the wreckage bare, Of women left in pieces, everywhere.

  All they do is rinse and repeat, Leave a heart on the floor, then sweep it neat. Each woman tossed in the “crazy” bin, While they play saint, parade their wins. They wear the badge of “model men,” With arm candy polished again and again. Strutting like they’re society’s pride, But burying love, innocence, and light inside. Oh, “she’s crazy,” they’ll nod and say, Ignoring the games they chose to play. It’s always us left in the dark, They stroll off, leaving the spark. Well, call us crazy, We are done for good— No more trust be misunderstood. The “model men” can have their show, We’ll keep our light, no need to glow.

  Oh, here he comes, suit and tie, The polished guy with a “deal-breaker” cry. Slept around like it’s no big feat, But expects clean hands at every meeting. A single touch and he felt shame, Yet I’ve fought monsters who had no name. He calls me “psycho,” and “a nutjob” too, While I offered warmth—meals he never knew. This is the man who’d drown in gin, Just for a “service” to dive right in. And yet he pities me ? He dares to say— “I’m the failure, just in his way.” Behind that polished, practised grin, He hides, hoping no one sees the spin. He waves his girl, all pomp and pride, Compared to my body, tore my side. But a lightsaber’s what he offered me— A “gift” to soothe my misery. So here’s my wish, you condescending fool: May the world see through your shallow rule.

  I’m the sage, the “trusted friend,” When my words fit their chosen bend. They cheer me on, their favorite seer, When my truths align with what they hear. But when I drift to truths unknown, They cast me off, I’m “overblown.” The same hands that traced what they’d yet to find, Now questioned, labelled, “out of mind.” I’ve held the future within my palm, Saw months ahead while they stayed calm. Yet speak of visions blurred and deep— They say I’m the one who’s “gone off steep.” Is it because they lack the spark, To see beyond their shallow arc? Their labels mean nothing; their vision’s skewed— My light’s divine, untouched, and true. So keep your white lies and vacant stare; I won’t shrink down to meet you there. I’ll burn as bright as I’m meant to be, Beyond the limits of what you see.