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Niya Sharma Poem
shattered, but I will not admit
defeat.
“i can do it,” i say
but the statistics sneer in silence.
“i just need to try my hardest,” i cry
but there's always someone giving more.
“how did she do it?” i ask
but she's looking for answers, too.
is anybody noticing me?
my effort?
instead of trying again, i let hope swirl away
in
defeat
?
why can't I be
different.
in the past 14 years, 4 months, and 28 days
i have tried everything/done nothing.
time went too fast/flew by/i made another excuse/my watch didn’t stop ticking
so i try to forget–and i try to push the thought away.
i turn around–only to face what i cannot escape
and in the spotlight stands
She.
She has achieved everything possible/no rock left unturned.
her shelves gleam with trophies and
her name echoes in applause.
She’s their first choice; and i’m still searching for a chance.
friends surround her, and once
someone said to her
“your hair is so pretty, i wish i had hair like yours.”
and of course, her hair is ravishing (is my hair too frizzy to be wished for?)
because She accomplishes her dreams/?She has got everything
while my dreams are her accomplishments/i have got nothing
maybe she got lucky/i wasn't good enough
but i try not to think of it
because ‘She’
is not
me
(another excuse to stop trying)
i want to be
heard.
in a suffocating sea of 9 billion voices
who feels
the ripple of one?
swimming against
a current
in which only a few are noticed.
longing for a soul to listen
i sit
watching the suffocating sea.
of course, i have a voice
but it may not be strong enough for the rest to hear.
if i could just be
seen.
"you are special,”
a yearning sea fish whispers to her kin.
kin,
wide-eyed and dreaming of things beyond the dark aching sea:
grow.
certainly her children
believing in their shimmering scales,
grow up
boundless in their belief of being ‘one of a kind’.
but
a reflection here,
a twin there,
comes the quiet, shrill feeling. “i blend into the rest.”
as the gleaming pond was filled with countless other shimmering scales–
the fishes
stopped
to
dream
recognize the unique value each of us brings.
voices will be
heard
people will be
seen
know that in this world of ours,
you
are not
just
the cry of one
in a world of many.
Copyright © Niya Sharma | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Niya Sharma Poem
I am but the dreamer, never the dream,
Yearning to shimmer like an endless blue ocean,
A cascade of stars dancing upon its gleam,
Not a mere stream, lost and forgotten.
I long to bloom as an ethereal flower,
With eight flawless petals kissed by the dawn,
A radiant stem, standing in endless power—
Yet I am but a lone leaf, with twilight withdrawn.
Desire burns within, a longing untamed,
Yet the sky denies what my soul has schemed,
For I am but the dreamer, never the dream.
Copyright © Niya Sharma | Year Posted 2025
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