Girlishly

I Object to Judgement. What is this objection, That we show, Towards the people, Whom we know, Just because of difference, In skin, caste and gender, We are unable to be tender. How do they defend themselves, When we readily don't accept them, Not because they are not sober, But because we lack exposure. It's a shame, To be a part of a society, Which praises if you blend in, And raises objection, If you don't give in. An ugly sight to me, How people judge others, When they themselves haven't, Come face-to-face with mirrors. I wish we stopped this war, Against their and our, And raised our awareness, To the whole oneness, For that would surely open up, If not doors, pathways, For those who have stayed, Way too long in darkened ways. The Arrogance! You hide it in the name of arrogance, While what I notice is cowardice, But calling it your nature, Makes it more malice. Brave isn't a qua

What is Really Real ? Was it you I loved, Or the concept of love, Was it you I adored, Or my image of you ? Was it you I found loving, Or is it me who sees love in all, Was it your bad habits, Or my positive approach to them ? Was it the dreams you showed, Or my stupidity, that I believed, Was it the doors you closed, Or my eagerness to keep standing ? Was it the promises you made, Or my expectations out of you, Was it the plans you made, Or my desperation to be around you ? Was it all a created facade, Or me, who wanted to see it like that, Was it the sweet talks,  Or just me hanging on till the walks ? Was it the beautiful images, Or my own projections of reality, Was it you, Or just my image of you ?

This freshness after the Stormy Rains! These fresh greens, After a rainy shower, Preen my heart, And make me feel like a flower. The soft hues of leaves, Beautiful tinge they weave, The freshness looking at you back, With a lot of self-respect. How do these birds, Fly through these storms, When the rains are so heavy, That they would easily be beaten down. A lesson learnt here, Of courage and hope, Like birds and flowers, Our souls should also be dope. These departing clouds, Tell me a tale, A proof when they recede, That even though dusty leaves, Were often neglected and ignored, Only after these showers, They look pure, And can properly be adored. What a Testimony ! This life is a testimony, To all the pain and agony, That even after going through it all, We remain utterly beautiful. These waves of time, That wipe us with sadness, The seasons of love, That add unto happiness, The un-asked-for qu