RIP Amma.

To the lady who changed the face of Tamil Nadu.

Aren’t I sane.

Sipped my tea,
And ate a cookie.
Painted my nails
And plaited my hair.

Oh, look at that beauty,
Look at myself.
Aren’t I a pretty ,
A pretty little thing.

Greeted the masters,
Smiled at the mistress.
Sugar coating my words,

The Most Beautiful Suicide.

“I don’t want anyone in or out of my family to see any part of me. Could you destroy my body by cremation? I beg of you and my family – don’t have any service for me or remembrance for me. My fiance asked me to marry him in June. I don’t think I would make a good wife for anybody. He is much better off without me. Tell my father, I have too many of my mother’s tendencies.” – Evelyn McHale .

I reach out to my end,

And let my body guide my way down.

Darling Girl.

Soul too tight closed,
With no arms to rest on.
Eyes filled with denouement,
But Darling Girl, let it seep.

The pain is real,
Abrading your life.
Your thoughts will be hacked,
But Darling Girl, you still are pure.

You bellow out your sting,
Still unheard.
You drown in the voices of solace,
But Darling Girl, you take another step forward.

—

Then unforeseen,
You sunk with the sunrise.
Your vivacity meeting mortality,
But Darling Girl, you are still awake.

You drew a story of battle,
With your life as the army.
Your heart must have ached, your mind must have desolated,
But Darling Girl, your sufferings have ended.

You have left the trace of your existence,
Now headed towards paradise.
Your strings might be broken,
But Darling Girl, your echo will always resonate.

—

Dedicated to a friend who left us with only her memories. I pray for you, my friend. R.I.P . 

Take Care

From the not so-

Purrfectgirl

Dark Winter

Shimmering tree, now just a piece of dust,
Fairy lights glow darkness.
Pills replace the treats,
The star not so high.

Presents, there are none,
Laughter, lost in the snow.
Melted snowman with melted dreams,
Waits to be built again.

A gift that slipped from the hands,
Waits to be forgotten.
But the pieces too sharp,
Stabbed into the heart.

Turning the clock around,
With agitated hands.
Hoping things would turn itself,
Darkness would drain by.

Fireplace with charred photos,
Fills the air with demise.
Tears that rolled down the cheek,
Told a story of promises.

This winter it is black,
With no one to paint the life.
This winter is unlit,
With no one to entwine

————–

Take care

From the not so-

Purrfectgirl