By Sushmita Tripathi
I want my story to remain unheard.
What’s the point of speaking when words return absurd?
A heart overflowing with unconditional love,
A mind harboring no ill thoughts thereof.
Yet judged and juggled by this so-called wise world—
Oh, the irony cuts deep as their judgments unfurled!
They demand change in the name of “new normal,”
While secretly craving the same old me, formal.
So here I stand, rejecting all your labels,
Tearing down expectations like rickety tables.
Call me rebel, call me what you please,
My authenticity is not yours to seize.
Silent defiance speaks louder than screams,
I’ll write my own story between the seams.
Of a life that refuses to bend or break
For anyone’s comfort or anyone’s sake.-