Somedays I cry myself to sleep,
and the rest I nap like a baby
Somedays I run away when judged,
and the rest I smile at them maybe
Some days no filters can make me look good,
and the rest I’m enough as I am
Somedays I starve myself for weight,
and the rest I eat as much as I can
Somedays self love looks like a party,
and the rest just a book waiting to be read
Somedays Pizzas make me the happiest,
and the rest it’s just bread
Somedays I drown myself in sorrows,
and the rest I swim in champagne
Somedays I shower tears in the shower,
and the rest I dance in the rain
Somedays my smile is plastic and a facade,
and the rest it’s shining in my eyes
Somedays I count my worries infinite,
and the rest the clouds in my skies
Somedays I shout when at the table,
and the rest I sit back all quiet
Somedays I’m darkness of nights,
and the rest I shine so bright
Somedays I’m the brown leaves of fall,
and the rest I bloom and grow
Somedays I’m a wreck as I am,
and the rest a fucking glam show
Somedays I’m an artist all noob,
and the rest I’m heavenly art
Somedays I do my best to survive,
and the rest I don’t even start
Somedays the world seems to fall apart,
and the rest I hug it together
Somedays I feel worse than it all,
and the rest I feel so much better

Girish Gupta

You ask me who I am
For me to blurt a label defining me
You ask me of my truth
to talk of a word confining me

But when you ask me to talk of me
Are you sure you are here to hear
When you wonder of who you see
Are you talking of the things I care
Because who I am is who you are
Not better than or worse
And to be so different and so same
I often wonder if it is curse
Who I am asks many questions
Several of which I’d rather not say
You ask me of my black and white
But ain’t I a little too gray
What do I dream of?
And what do I dread?
Which colour do I love?
if Red? Which shade of Red?
What are the things I have done?
And what would I do again without thought?
What ideas cause me to be a storm?
And what makes my soul a drought?
What are the questions I shy away from?
or What are the things my heart aches for?
When you ask me of who I am,
I am so less, and I am so much more
What anxiety wrecks me up
And what stories soothe me much
Am I the gold of Alibaba’s fortune?
or am I Midas’ touch?
What nights I shine real loud?
And what nights my darkness consumes me?
What are the places I have visited?
And which do I want to see?
Who am I? I sometimes don’t know
And the rest I’m aware of my being
To know the answer or to maybe not know
each is its own way of freeing

You ask me who I am
For me to blurt a label defining me
You ask me of my truth
to talk of a word confining me

Grief in an Hourglass

Today, There is an ache in me
that urges me to gulp down my words
Not for a day and not for a week
but a time longer than time can serve
For my voice sounds too feeble
and opinions are made of glass
For they could fall and shatter
and leave everlasting scars

Today, I feel softer than usual
and stronger than I ever did
as I dance in my own chaos
and yet, I stand across you still
For I can hear you shout my wrongs
and I want to run to a far away land
I want to scream and cry and fall apart
as the hourglass flows away the sand

Today, after telling myself otherwise forever
I think I need someone to sit across me
tell me it’s okay to feel how I do
tell me I’m probably more than me
For I want to be told I’m important
and I want to share about things I hold dear
I want someone to want to listen
as I talk of everything I find unclear

Today, the world feels different
More gray than it ever really did
the sun can’t paint me yellow
and I want to choke on some unknown pills
I want sleep to feel like peace
and maybe I don’t want to wake up ever
I want to pour away my grief just maybe
in death or therapy, whatever lasts forever

Girish Gupta