A desire to die, found myself lazily lie,
Oh—'Without pain,' then why even try?
Hanged dupatta on a fan left running,
It spun, it tore—just threads kept churning.
Asked GPT for methods of death,
And back came '10 Ways to Be Happy' instead!
It said- "Just hold this night alive",
Weird—was I meant to be gone by sunrise?
Funny, right?...
Sped at 70, reckless and rash,
The driver behind just roared in a flash.
Called me "mad" - mocked without a crash,
And yet, I lived—a pity, couldn’t even bash!
Dared to walk late at night,
Thought murderers might set things right.
But what they shared was philosophy's advice,
Ranting like life coaches— too precise!
Decided to jump from a height,
Got famous—landed on a bull's back thrice.
At last, the tired bull kicked me deep,
"Best to try next time", I sighed and went to sleep.
my mother fought with that man
whom people called my father
he hit her with a broken glass
and a blue colored bottle
she had some tears and some blood
flooding all around her face
some bruises, some scars
pretty clearly making their way
when people came to visit
she hid those marks with some powder
and wearing a red dupatta she sat
in front of the relatives
when someone saw what my “father”
had done to my mom
they said that it was normal
that “father” wasn’t wrong
that women have to face this
forever in their lives
they were born with it, they are
I couldn’t really understand why
mom had been doing whatever she was,
the same schedule every day
I heard thuds and shrieks
and the paintings breaking down
that I had bought for some dollars
I prayed to god for another family
the one that was “nice” perhaps
the one that felt like mine
alas one day
everything disappeared
one day there were
no sounds, no broken bottles
no tears, no yelling
no blood
was everything actually over
or did I just grow up?
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