Losing sight of me
I don’t know who I am
I’m given a lot of names
But so is God
But I am no God
I am a confused human, named after one.
I’m me because of sheer chance and privilege.
Awards fool us that we really deserve what we have
As I prick out the remenants of broken glass from the red fist in my chest
It all makes sense as my vision goes blurry
When I saw the world, I stopped seeing myself
I was losing sight of me
One person at a time
I was deafened by noise
Of people trying to define me
I ask again and again — why do you want to change me?
Is it to make me better or make me fit?
And who shaped me, in the first place?
Can a building build itself
Seems, humans need to be responsible for their maintainance after 18
For women, until they’re married in India
Growing up, marriage was a dream
And when my eyes were filled with blood
As I pricked each glass piece out
I realised
I was escaping myself
But where will I go
When he is locked in with me in the same room?
We will have a family
Or a baby
But
One day
When it’s dark
When all have left
I will have to face me
(This is so scary, that I would rather call in someone else into the room. But for how long? Maybe till the last breath. That’s how we escape life, anyway)
Until then,
Like the rest of the world
I will douse in drugs and luxury
And keep losing sight of me.
