You are good enough because you try. Efforts need no validation. There is no competition. Yes you cannot keep up most of the time But does that really dim your shine? Oh how beautiful it is to fall and rise There are parts of you that make things bright. Blinded souls can never sight
Nobody but you water your stem The dust beneath you hide well Making them believe you can facilely blossom again. You flinch at their touch, for they may bleed Not understanding the darkness, you've buried deep. Oh dear, let them see, what beauty there is in vulnerability.
Soft colourful corollas dance in the rain Notwithstanding the seasons unchanged. Drenched in dreams and desires they whirl in the eddies of wind. It's indeed because of the strength that lies within.
In silence you heal with glorious grace Fight nightmares alone in despair. Surmising a silver lining wrapped somewhere You embrace it all yet again. The melodies echo far and wide The blurry visions come to light.
You whisper warmth to all who cometh Stepped on, crushed, twisted and turned Giving in love is all you've learned.
But there are days it returns in ways more than one. When the moonbeams make you feel alive and the ocean beckons you to revive. You see passion consuming half your heart. A fresh breath of freedom seems not afar. The sombre sky in admiration or the butterflies getting drunk in your aroma. They all behold you and you realise, growth is something you've embraced all while.
You do fall for stories even after knowing that those words are just a distraction, a side way that only exist on the map, there isn't any far away land ready to be blessed by your presence or a princess of some well-known nation waiting there to run away with you.
Maybe you too know that at certain instant, in your bones, but that's one tricky thing about faith, that we don't easily give up on things we love, your dreams are what you have and these stories are what brings you hope, hope that you can live up to those words, that one day this imaginary character will no longer be imaginary, it will have a name, your name.
This is what it feels like to be an observer, every day you sit at that window on the chair, your favorite spot you watch the winter slipping through November just to get in the bed with December, such a cold hearted bastard and then she leaves december too with a promise to visit again next year, and you see the snow melting away with the traces of warm tears leaving behind.
Summer does that too you know, but she likes to make things warmer, she rather prefers to heat up the romance, first you will enjoy the warmness, the spark, She will kiss you right on to your cheeks but as the things get too passionate She burns your fingers and you surrender yourself to the drops of monsoon.
But monsoon is just another cheater, A con artist, who looks right into your eyes and play her tricks. First she will drench you to the core with her love and then when you are addicted to her petrichor, she will abandon you in the middle of cold October and there is nothing that you could do about it, except looking for another muse and just before you realize what is true love you find yourself again in bed with the winter.
The first time I cut myself, I wanted to show it to the world.... like a victory badge I earned. I wanted to tell them I too, can hurt myself. It's not up to them to make me feel miserable... I wanted to tell them, I can be more brutal to myself than they have ever been. I wanted to show the wounds on my skin, a representative of the trauma they inflicted somewhere deep within. But like all my other feelings, I concealed this achievement, This time, under my sleeves.
Woke up Early in the morning Finding a piece of sound Roaming across my morning "Vande Mataram" I need to come over from The labyrinth of routine life Millions of soldiers sacrificed Their lives and we are still Remembering their existence, I'm the daughter of this holy Nation Veins are eavesdropping The hymn of Patriotism From the womb of biological mother To the lap of my Native Mother What we conquer, is Freedom.. Freedom of flying high with Flamboyant three colours.. Freedom of delivering Our Humanity to the Country Feets of myriad, walking towards Revolution Holding each other's hand With satisfactory voice, "Bharat Mata Ki Jay" Despite of various indifferences, We are together, celebrating Our proud moments.. I'm the daughter of this holy Nation..