Balancing Act

Where do I fit in?
Toeing the line between heart and head
I can't find myself.
Should I play the games people play?
Stay cool, stay cool, whispers my head.
It's the voice of the million guys who came before
The ones who wanted to "chill" and "hang out" and "hook up".
Be true to yourself, screams my heart.
It sounds like the lost girl inside of me.
The one who gives and gives and hopes and hopes,
Fading a little each time,
But never quite disappearing.

This isn't a line, in fact.
It's a fucking tightrope
And I'm about to fall.
The question is, when I do
Which way will I go?

The Beholder

The most attractive woman I know
Is not beautiful.
She has crooked teeth
Raccoon eyes
Bird's nest hair
And a bony face.
But she's also got
Poise
Intelligence
Empathy
And humour.
If she walked past me on the street,
I'd turn around for a second look.
If she talked to me,
I'd look in her intense brown eyes
And listen with my mind and my heart.
If she gave me her friendship
I'd cherish it.
Because what she is on the inside
Reflects on the outside.
And they're both beautiful.

Filmi Drama

The only part

Of that lame Bollywood movie I saw last weekend

Resonated.

The part where he brought a flowerpot down on his chest

To show how much love hurts.

If I could,

I would bring a flowerpot down on my chest too.

Maybe it would crack my heart wide open,

Let in new air;

Break the stone in my chest

Into a million small pieces

That will wash away cleanly.

If that is the only way to be rid

Of the hold you have on my heart,

Somebody, please hand me a flowerpot!