Damsel In Distress

The opening scene of many plays but the resolution of none.

a damsel in distress
Photo by Nadi Lindsay on Pexels.com
She calls herself
A damsel in distress.
People don’t find it worth gazing,
Say it doesn't sound empowering enough
But she knows that is her reality for now
And she’s had her share of running
So let’s accept.
There is nothing modest
In silently crying to bed.
As of today, her sobs are louder
And cheers more humble,
She perfectly misfits in the
Dress she curated for herself.
Her ankle-length insecurities
Expose her vulnerabilities
Every now and then.
And the mess she made in the kitchen,
Is nothing compared to herself.
But above all,
she is a damsel in distress
but not another damsel in distress
Waiting to be saved
by someone else.


a taste of sweetness collected from a sour world

She is no gold
But fragments of pure honey.

The world is her nectar,
Word her hive.

The world licks her off many fingers
And swirls her in many tumblers 

But not many keep up
with her complexity.

Though everybody loves to taste.


her eyes are downright outrageous


Her eyes are downright outrageous,
Her heart resembles hearth,
Raging, roaring, reprising.
Putting together
An act of dark art.
She owes no soul any sorry.
She owns her edges
A soft time
And her meltdown,
A piece of peace.
With makeup,
She can perform witchcraft.
Her tone is not obliged
To any validation.
And her validations
Are her own to seek.
She flaunts her
Necklace of love marks
With the occasional beads of scars.
She loves,
She scars,
Charring your insecurities apart.
No! She is no one thing.
She is a million mirrors
Of the same heart.

Eye to I

When you know, you are a ticking bomb

Eye to I
Photo by Kate Trifo on Pexels.com
Photo by Raphael Brasileiro on Pexels.com

Even when I needed saving,
I needed to first convince them
that I needed saving
or worse was worth saving.
That test enough, delayed the process.
The last few breaths were wasted proving worth,
Where one could have been held and let continue breathing,
One was still questioned on if it’s real,
Where one could’ve bartered time with moments,
One still bargained for genuine attention.
So I asked myself,
When you know, you are a ticking bomb,
When you know, you are only a few breaths down the spiral

Is it worth pushing self or others?

I never was a person who would give up on the world
But in the world that I exist
My existence seemed to be lost.
My name rarely uttered
And my soul deepens every day
In an ocean of emotions
Causing cyclic storms
In the hurricane of which only I’m caught.

Amidst all,
There are a few good days,
One or two,
That I cling to dearly
To keep going.
To keep the skin from going pale
And the heart from going heavy.
Yet I can’t help but wonder

What If they cease to exist
Will there be a forever storm in my head then,
I wonder how longer can you survive
that way in a quicksand.

In series of such days
One after the other
When there is no hand to hold
And your cries of help
Go unanswered and cold
Cling on to the last hope
As hard as you can
As long as you can
To be your saving.

Photo by Dark Indigo on Pexels.com


Silent! So Silent, but not too silent to not exist.


Everyone told Valerie
to be strong
but no one ever mustered
“You are strong.”

Every friend
had a tale of a friend,
the strength of which
was beyond compare.
but no friend ever saw that friend as she.

“Crying is a sign of weakness,”
“ugly cry is unacceptable”
and “breakdowns should be behind doors”
preached many.

So Valerie learned to hide her tears well
and made her sobs, silent.
So Silent, but not too
silent to not exist.

There were many bruises
the bandages couldn’t heal.
strength makes progress
but who’s there to see?

just to make assumption
and not see past it.
but her mind could not make peace
with the fact that people labelled her with.

Through the torture that led to traumas
and the assaults that led to PTSD
all the deranged and beautiful
childhood memories that led to she

After every time she failed herself
and every time she failed thee,
Valerie took a step forward
and kept walking.

But if strength makes no noise
does it even exist?
but if strength makes no noise
does it even exist?

Probably not for anyone,
she’s surrounded with.
When someone labelled Valerie weak,
her mind could not help but disagree
but the soul silently weeps

And finds another incident
to move forward with
being if not strong,
not weak.

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