Fake Readers.

A few months ago, I dreamt of waking up to Instagram notifications that screamed all my favorite authors are now following me. For any young reader, this is the absolute dream. Advertisements

Dear Mom

Last night I was out partying till late You know my mom doesnt like it She hardly grants me the permission Says she trusts me but not the world… So i tell her i’m not in school anymore ma

Itch And Ire.

Over time, when bitten enough, The body can build up tolerance To mosquito bites So that they no longer itch. Then— though you might be Bitten a hundred times On each hand And again— on each leg You are not bothered.

Backwards.

There’s a part of me tracing back memories, I feel this heaviness in my chest; the weight of your words on a frail, little heart. I love you backwards, From the last day to the first. This way I know your favourite song before I know your name. Loving you backwards comes easy.

Wrath Of Monsoon!

Anyone who says they love the rain either 1) doesn’t live where it rains much, or 2) doesn’t work/go to college yet. It can drain your energy, frizz your hair, and if you have ever had an injury, you’ll definitely feel it on a rainy day.

Colourful.

When I started off as a child, my life was white. White as canvas to be filled with extravagant metaphors. White as snow; ready to fall with grace and rise steadily. During adolescence, it was all yellow. To be yellow is termed as a significance of confidence. Vincent van Gogh referred to the colour as … More Colourful.