The corners of my lips are prisoners to the society
Tied by strings of people’s perception of me
Strings in the hand of my pride
My pride is in the sky
As long as these strings deceive people into believing
My heart is on the seventh
But my eyes are the rebel
They tend to shine some light
Onto my soul
Don’t worry though
My words do damage control
Every time I look at him
Speaking in the mood his heart is in
And being called ‘real’ for it
I think to myself
The label I’ll get would start with the same letter
But instead of ‘real’, I would be called ‘rude’
And a bunch of things that rhyme
Crude, a person with attitude
So every time my emotions reach an altitude
I tell myself, “Being true to your feelings is a crime!”
And guess what? It works every time.
The society whispers to me, it’s your choice
A façade or a fine?
-Srishti Singh