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Tamesha Khemraj Poem
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." — Eleanor Roosevelt
It’s a new beginning.
But beginnings don’t always feel like hope.
Sometimes they feel like death.
Sometimes they feel like standing in the ashes
of everything you thought you needed.
I let go of the mask. The one I wore for years,
The one that smiled when I wanted to scream,
The one that said “I’m okay” when I was not okay.
Now I walk barefaced and it hurts.
The air is sharp. The silence is loud.
The truth is heavier than the lies ever were.
I feel lighter,
But only because I lost something
I thought would never leave.
I feel happier, but it is a shallow kind of happy,
The kind that cracks at the edges,
The kind that fades when the lights go out.
The past follows me, its claws in my back.
The chains rattle in every step I take.
I carry regrets like stones in my pockets,
and every time I reach for better,
Guilt. Oh, guilt whispers
“Who are you to want more?
Who are you to dream?”
Would they ever understand?
That depression has an end,
But not the kind they think.
Not healing, just exhaustion.
You get tired of drowning,
So you teach yourself to float.
You smile, you laugh, you say “I’m fine,”
Because the only other option
is to let go completely.
Would they understand
that sometimes the smile is survival?
That sometimes it is the only thread
holding me together?
Would they understand the nights
I lay awake begging for answers,
clutching the edge, praying not to slip?
Would they notice if I disappeared?
Or would my absence
be easier to love
than my presence ever was?
I am cracked.
I am bleeding.
I am tired of hurting.
I am tired of pretending.
And sometimes
I am tired of living.
But still
I am here.
And maybe that counts for something.
Maybe being alive,
even when it hurts,
is a kind of courage.
Maybe the scars on my body,
on my heart,
are proof that I chose to stay
when leaving seemed easier.
It’s a new beginning,
but not a clean one.
I carry the past with me.
I carry the guilt.
I carry the silence of those
who never asked if I was okay.
But I also carry the choice
to breathe,
to fight,
to try again.
If they don’t understand,
if they don’t care,
I will still try.
Even when my hands shake.
Even when my chest aches.
Even when my smile feels fake.
Because beginnings are not about being whole.
They are about learning to live
with the broken pieces.
They are about choosing to stay,
when staying feels impossible.
They are about whispering,
again and again:
I am not fine.
But I am here.
And for now,
that will have to be enough.
Copyright © Tamesha Khemraj | Year Posted 2025
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Tamesha Khemraj Poem
Memory is a noose around the neck.
Each tug, a reminder of what’s lost
The harder one struggles to break free,
The tighter it constricts, the greater the cost.
It clings, relentless, refusing release,
A weight too heavy to shed.
Even after you let go of the person,
Their presence lingers, memories spread.
How formidable is the grasp of the past
Its hold unyielding, a relentless foe,
Their memories,
With every recollection the pain intensifies
Like a tightened noose, a crashing wave.
The smothering grip that won’t let go.
The more you remember,
The stronger the pain.
A relentless ache of unending strain
In the end,
It’s not the noose that kill you.
But the memories, a relentless bane.
Your own mind becomes the battlefield.
Where the shadows of the past take flight
Haunted by the echoes of what once was
A relentless struggle against the night
Yet surrounded by the darkness
A glimpse of hope
For even in depths, light can be found
And with courage one can prevail
Rising above the memories which surrounds
Copyright © Tamesha Khemraj | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Tamesha Khemraj Poem
In depths of whispered lies, they ask,
“Are you okay?” I respond, “I’m fine”
But inside, I’m tangled in a knot
A turmoil of thoughts I can’t untwine
“I’m fine”, the words escaped my lips,
The greatest shield against my pain within
But beneath the surface,
Oh beneath the surface, I suffocate
In a sea of sorrow, I drown and spin
Beneath the surface, behind every “I’m fine”
I wish…
I wish I could find the courage
The courage to pick a knife up
I wish I could slit my throat
Oh I wish…
I wish I could drown in my own blood as it gushes from my throat
Maybe then I’d drown in something that’s not my own thoughts
“I’m fine”, I whispered, but it’s a lie
For each day I live, I feel dead inside
Behind these eyes, a storm rage
Behind every smile, a tempest roars,
“I’m fine”, I said, though I long to scream
A masked laughter to withdraw the pain
“I’m fine”, I whispered as I cut open my thigh
“I’m fine”, I whispered as I enjoyed watching my blood escape through my scars
In the silence of my hollow soul,
Echoes of anguish take their toll
“I’m fine”, I repeat like a broken record
Yet inside I feel so severed
With each "I'm fine," I lose a piece,
Until there's nothing left but grief.
Beneath the surface, I drown in sorrow,
Yet still, I say, "I'll make it to tomorrow."
But in the darkness, where shadows creep,
The truth emerges from its sleep.
"I'm not fine," I finally admit,
As I confront the demons that won't quit.
So here I stand, broken and bare,
Stripped of my disguise,
No longer hiding, no longer scared.
"I'm not fine," I confessed to the night,
For only in truth, can I find the light.
Copyright © Tamesha Khemraj | Year Posted 2026
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