I forgot that I'm a girl

It was summer when I first noticed
the stares from the creeps
from wearing shorts and no sleeves
and I was expected to boil in sweat
in my inglorious, protected clothing set
which covered every inch of my body
except above the neck
but yet the stares continued till I died of heat
didn't spare a pitiful glance at the squirming feat
cause no matter how hot it may be
it's an illegal tragedy for a girl to be
dressed in summer clothes
like any other male in town
and I hate myself
all cause I forgot and oh how I shouldn't have forgotten,
forgotten that I was a girl.
  It was summer when the wind finally blew
and the sounds by the wind chimes steadily grew
I had been boiling in heat and unable sleep
all cause of the torture that my room was deep
deep into the closed door and deep into society
I unlocked the balcony door
and smiled as the wind blew
and it was the first time that I had felt such at ease
and felt happy that I could finally be at peace
but the darkness hid many battles unbeat
so I closed the door and checked the bolts twice
and stayed awake while covered in heat
and scolded myself for being at defeat
for the door is never to be opened at night
unless I'd want to be in an unworthy fight
with an unknown man
who hid in the night.
So I cried of torture and cried for being stupid
cause I had forgotten who I was
I had forgotten I was a girl.
  It had been a casual Sunday morning
full of icy breeze
when it had been exactly a week
since my beloved decided to leave
without telling me of course
of course cause I wasn't classified as a human
human who had feelings
human who didn't even deserve a goodbye.
I was then classified as naive
naive for falling in love
with a person who told me they loved me so
in my darkest hour of solitude.
I was then classified as stupid
for believing a guy
for being happy
for being content
for being at peace after years.
So I cried for days and cried till there was no tear left
 I wasn't as evil
and I never left anyone behind
at the end it was all my fault
my fault for not being good enough
I have never hated myself more than now
All cause I forget that I'm a girl.
 



   -Nikki Gautam

Dead and beautiful

Those socks, they're free

of earthly bounding  and temporal greed

but they're dirty as can be

fallen not into ashes but yet they seem to be,

seem to be dead as no one knew it could be

for the dirt had been a long guest

and the floor its home.

Once all mighty and strong it had been

it could see the window with tears of dust and greed

of the rain that washed away the pain,

pain that no one else could see.

Those socks, poor socks they seem to be

taken off harshly and thrown off carelessly

by their own beloved

someone they looked up to be

for what hadn't they done, they'd done everything they could

they could hide her pain

and would hide her tears

for she trusted them and they never got her down.

They wish she got down now

got down from the high,

but it was too late

all because they couldn't hide it

couldn't keep it

inside .

It came out and it came out like an army

almost like it was ready for battle

and a battle it sure had been

for if it hadn't been for the socks

people would know, it seems.

It seems no one knew

that's why the socks were still dirty

and the windows cried yet with marks of tears

on its shiny smooth surface,

no one knew

no one cared

cared that she got on the chair

and jumped but

she never hit the ground

never to be seen again.

The socks can't hide her

nor can the mighty sleeves

for when only the blind can see the pain

the sighted get defeated, it feels.

It felt like years

years ago when she climbed up

and hung herself to sleep

but it had been just days

days till anyone had even bothered to see

the girl with the friendly socks

and the mighty sleeves.

So the socks lay dirty

dirty and unworn

unworn since days

before its master

decided finally to be happy.

- Nikki Gautam

Rather

Why live when you'd rather be dead
because you'd be doing
anything else instead.
I don't want to do the things they want me to
And I don't want to hang on to the word they say
I'd rather be hanging from the ceiling any day.
I don't want to look at the sky anymore
No matter what, the stars or the clouds, the theme of the hour is
I don't want to feel the wind on my face
And i'd rather be dead instead
Because the air I feel as I jump from the 10th floor of a building
Gives the same feeling as the wind on my face
As I stand on the ground.
I'd rather be smiling in my grave
Than acting all fake
For those of whom who don't even care
Of my lively dare
Call me a pessimist or any mystical creature you'd like
But i'd rather be dreaming of Hogwarts in my decayed mind
Than being judged here in this world
For the things I never find.
And i'd rather screw my mind
Than to let others screw me over again and again
Because i'd rather blow my brains out
And see the walls spattered with my black blood
Than to see those walls full of something else instead
Like memories and laughs
And poems and cracks
And i'd rather be dead
Because then only would my unworthy self be suffice
Enough for not
Being betrayed or feeling unloved
Or the pain and anguish they cause.
Because being dead beats being empty on the inside
Any day on any time
Because the time that I spend on my days
Sulking
Would be better if i'd have been sulking
In my grave instead.
Because I know my worth
And it's better than this
So i'd rather kill myself
Than let every other person
Do it for me
Or rather
Do it for themselves instead.

-Nikki Gautam