Fit In

I can’t seem to fit into boxes,
I am made of perfect paradoxes
A little bit of spice
A dash of white lies
Perfectly disguised.

I can’t seem to fit all the labels,
I am just perfectly unstable
Words can’t define
The story that is mine
I’m the colour outside the lines~

But I just want to fit in.

I can’t seem to fit the status quo,
I don’t know where I am to go
Our world is black and white
A bunch of wrongs and rights
And that I want to fight.

I can’t seem to fit a single trait,
I’m just too hard to rate
It’s nice to be unique
To stay away from cliques
To be my own critique~

But I just want to fit in.


Empty Nest

On the highest branch of the highest tree,
Lived a mother bird and her family
She nurtured her babies, gave them a home,
She ensured they were loved and never alone.

She gave them wings; she was their mentor, their guide
She protected her babies- never left their side
At last came the day, when the mother bod goodbye;
It was time for her oldest to spread her wings and fly.

The mother buried her sorrows, having loads of work to do,
For in her loving nest, she still held another two
She visited her oldest from time to time each year,
With passing days her smiles grew wider, and gone were her tears.

She showed her middle child all the wonders of the world,
They flew together as the wind around them sang and swiveled and swirled
Before she knew it, at the blink of an eye,
It was time for her son to spread his wings and fly.

The mother cried a little, but couldn’t waste more time;
She knew it would be minutes before the final bell chimed
Her youngest baby girl, the last one she could spoil,
Was soon to blossom and bloom, away from her home soil.

She gave the third a piece of her heart, the last shred of her hope;
She feared how she would manage, she prayed that she could cope
When it was time to bid goodbye, she couldn’t help but cry,
Her last little warrior was to spread her wings and fly.

The mother felt lonely in her empty nest on the tree,
But after all those many years, she finally felt free
She lept on a current and let it take her where it blew,
She made the most of the peace without her merry little crew.

She took her time to relax, to catch up on some rest
She tried to make the most of her tranquil empty nest
She knew it wouldn’t be long before her babies came back home,
With joyous smiles and cheery eyes, they’d be carrying their very own.

Counting Sheep

Lying on my bed, waiting for sleep,
Drifting on in silence, counting sheep.

One, two, three,
He doesn’t love me
I have to break free,
From this insanity.

Four, five, six,
I don’t care what he thinks
I’m suspended at the brink,
If I let go I’ll sink.

Seven, eight, nine,
He doesn’t have time
He couldn’t make it for me,
I don’t need him in my life.

Ten, eleven, twelve,
No more stories to tell
No more memories to make,
No more pictures on the shelves.

Drifting on in silence, counting sheep,
But the one thing I won’t get is a blissful sleep.


The world overwhelmed her with so many thoughts,
That she decided to keep them inside
One question after the other was thrown at her,
So she chose to run and hide

The world overburdened her with so much pain,
That she couldn’t express it out loud
She hid behind white lies and plastic smiles,
To put on a show for the crowd.

The world overdosed her so many sorrows,
She swallowed her tragedy away
The thoughts in her mind the most violent of all,
For they were silent till the very last day.

Her words could fill oceans, but she only told them a drop.

Washing Machine

Like the clothes in a running washing machine,

Swirl the thoughts of a slightly psychotic teen

When it’s time to throw in the load, the spirits are high,

But when the switch is turned on, that’s when you hear the cries

Going round and round in circles, the ambivalence is strong,

Torn between the options, the list of choices long

Pop in the suds and the litres of soap,

You’re suspended in midair on a tightrope

The emotions getting cleansed, preparing for the brainwash,

The clothes spinning in circles, the torment won’t stop

Entering in anguish and walking out squeaky clean,

Spinning around in circles in the washing machine

The immediate thoughts repeating over and over again,

Finally they click to place and the ambivalence ends

The puzzle piece was placed and you found the lost treasure,

All because you put in extra soap for good measure

Like the clothes in a running washing machine,

There swirl the thoughts of a slightly psychotic teen.

. . . .

My life is like a washing machine. I walk into the open door with a big grin on my face and as soon as the load gets dumped in, that’s when my life goes around in circles. Add some soap for good measure, and there I am, trying to survive the tidal waves of my thoughts. But once the trauma is over, I am drenched in tranquility. I have clarity. But it won’t be long before the next laundry basket makes its way into sending my life spiraling once again. 

Four Walls

These four walls are my only solace, my shelter from the world outside,
While others would say that they feel trapped, I feel safer when I hide.

These four walls are my sanctuary, no other can I call my home,
I sit crouched inside, blissfully alone.

These four walls house the writings of my heart, the emotions I wish to withhold,
The anxiety that curses threw my veins, the stories I’ve never told.

These four walls are not concrete or stone, but further hidden inside,
These four walls are the prison chamber for the devil in my mind.

Turtle Shell

When life gets too hard and emotions get over me,
I hide under my formidable shell
Noone can harm me or take me away,
I can hide from this resemblance of hell

When life takes the blanket of blackness and wraps it,
Enclosing me in a corner of depression
I duck under my veil of plastered innocence,
And I’m filled with calmer emotions

When life takes the upper hand and locks me in,
Into the valves of negativity I go,
I hide under the covers, behind the scenes,
My feelings they’ll never know

When life hands me misfortune on a silver plate,
And expects me to consume it with tranquility
I hide under my turtle shell, away from the madness,
The darkest spectrum they’ll never see

When life gives me bad news and expects me to take it,
Like it’s not a big deal at all
I hide under my vulnerability, behind that closed door,
I pretend to embrace the fall

When life suspends me at the brink of madness,
I’ll make sure that no one can tell
They won’t know how quickly I’m breaking apart,
Under my turtle shell.


I waited, I watched, I wished,
As the world around me derided
I don’t know why or how I did it,
But I left my thoughts undecided.

Fluttering in my chest was a sliver of hope,
That you’ll show up one way or another
But once the clock struck ten I wasn’t sure,
Why I had even bothered.

The empty seat in front of me,
Drew eyes all around
It stole the show and my pride,
In self pity I wished to drown.

You told me that you wanted me,
You promised me a date
But when the clock chimed eleven,
I stopped believing you were late.

I could feel the empathy radiating,
From all corners of the room
I pitied myself for ever believing,
Love for me could bloom.

I waited, I watched, I wished,
But the pain was too much to handle
Wallowing in my misery,
I blew out my birthday candles.

Happy Endings

Aren’t endings so?
Down and up.
Failure, then success.
Madness, then miracles.
Negativity becomes positivity.
Really, though, everyone says so.
Life becomes better
~One day~
Better, becomes life.
So says everyone.
Though really?
Positivity becomes negativity.
Miracles, then madness.
Success, then failure.
Up and down.
So endings aren’t happy.

Here’s another palindrome poem. If you read the top half backwards, word by word, you get the second half. It looks like a mirror. When read in each way it gives different meanings. Hope you liked it 🙂

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