As I grew older,

I realized the irony

of growing up-

It took twenty three

years for me

to distinguish a lie

from the truth.


As I grew older,

my friendships were few

and far between,

like the fizzy drinks

in multicoloured cans-

cold and piquant

with an inescapable shelf life.


As I grew older,

the familial connection dwindled

and I became self-centered,

the last standing thread

of pollen in a sun-speckled field.


As I grew older,

I learned to hate

myself and others

with  fervent strength,

talk about a life

that keeps on giving.



They say that

where there is smoke

there is fire.


They say that

where there is a will

there’s a way.

But I don’t care

what they say anymore,

It’s not their call,

I have repainted the idioms

and they are drying under the sun-

Words that stare at me

imbued with new meanings.


They say, they say,

they say, that’s all they could ever do.

But now I say and I stick by my words.

And my words don’t lie.