Puppet. 

I am trapped in this circus of beauty 

the day I become a woman version of the little girl inside me

pushed into this whirlpool of

how to be and how not to be

and mind you there’s no escape 

because you go deeper into it if you struggle to save yourself 

the girls on the magazines will 

haunt me forever 

and for some reason will always be too powerful. 

but when there’s makeup on my face 

it is always a little too much 

enough for them to assume my real self is U-G-L-Y

oh who knows, maybe? 

but what a shame you are wasting your time wondering about the face that lies beneath 

these standards of perfection that you are also responsible for

I understand feminism, he says with a faint smile

now I am free to abuse you just 

like my male friends 

oh what a privilege my friend 

but sad how that’s the first thing that pops in your mind when someone talks about equality 

however now the girl I ought to be is the delicate one

delicate enough for their fists to crush me in no time

I should have bigger eyes so they can place deceit in them, when I am busy dreaming of a safer world 

my wrists should be tiny, 

weak like a thread

so they can tie me to their ill version of patriarchy and stop me from going places

it is just a meme babe

I know how to respect the women in my life

do not take that damn joke seriously 

and let your self esteem dissolve in the laughter that follows

this time I let out a soft giggle

but my heart refuses to believe 

we live in a world that has learnt

how to balance the both of us

and even if we do,

why is it that every time I have an opinion 

everybody leaves the room with

their eyebrows pulled up? 

you leave

and I stretch my arms to create a pinpoint of my existence in this universe 

but a shrill voice inside me tells me I’m asking for a lot of space

now where do I go, 

I’m also a puppet in the game.

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Guilty as charged 

it took me exactly three years 24 days to get over what you said and five nights 

to forget a joke everyone just laughed about.

it wasn’t about me they said repeatedly 

but I still allowed

my mind to build a house around it to make my visits regular.

take it easy man, 

their voices echo

and I look at them like they

speak of a science I have never learnt about. 

you ask me

where the problem lies

and a finger of mine will turn to myself even when I’m asleep.
I do not know when 

not to say sorry because I use it for everything I do. 

there’s traffic

I’m sorry

there’s rain

I’m sorry

there’s no music

I’m sorry

there’s nothing 

I’m sorry 

I’m sorry 

I’m sorry 

I breathe. 

now I’m carving it in my nerves because that is how apologetic I am now and will always be. 

on most nights, 

the voice in my head is my only enemy because it only tells me the things I want to forget about. 

again and again. 

every second. every day. 

you’re not enough 

you’re not enough 

you are not enough. 

shut it. I know. 

it is absurd. ridiculous. almost nonsensical how badly I want to mute every thing in my head. 

but believe me I’ve tried. I’ve tried to release my heart from the claws of self-resent but the bar hasn’t moved an inch yet. 

also tell me, if it is possible 

to survive when you’re guilty as charged

but also the victim?


Image courtesy to the owner.