A Young Soul in Poetry: A Heart Too Kind

As a young soul standing at the crossroads of life, I try to capture the essence of my struggles, dreams, and resilience through the lens of poetry. This is my journey, woven with threads of gold and tests of gold.

Counting the Years

I know just 15 years but standing alone,
With a heart that once used to shine.
In the corners of my life I silently stand,
A girl too young to notice these harsh demands.
Things never fail to fall miserably on me,
That is the reason why I never feel free.
Younger me used to dream of teenage to be woven with threads of gold,
But now everything rises too difficult for my heart to hold.

Unfulfilled Promises and Uneasy Paths

At the age of 6 I was promised by someone to walk together miles,
But she left in between and blamed me for her turned smiles.
I give my whole to everything I ever own,
But at last, I am always left with the only wound.
I do have a friend now who lights up my skies,
But the insecurities and fears cover and never die.
What if she leaves and closes the door?
What if she turns out to be like the others before?
The questions shake me throughout my core: A girl who feels a little much more.

A Kind and Grateful Heart

Yeah, I am just a girl with a heart that is too kind,
Just waiting for the time when things would not mind.
This is who I am:
Someone who always said, "I don't want to get out of bed,
Most of the time is kind,
In her fashion sense she is blind.
Like to have a lot of moments of fun,
Loves the heat and the blazing sun,
Loves to chat,
Broke some chairs on which she sat,
Does not care what others think,
Loves everything and everyone including the kitchen sink!"

Reflections and Emotions

There is a young man from here,
Who likes an occasional beer.
On taking a drink he said, "It makes me think,
That lady just gave me a wink!"
Just some haphazard writing in hurry...

And indeed, the most beautiful women ever can be inside out,
Full with emotions diverse.
In this moment, happy as a buzzing bee,
Next would be as glum as a saddest cat.
But I love my fluctuations in emotions,
Otherwise, I am not at all a happy woman.
I simply love to dress up and carry myself well.
I get utterly confused when some heads turn,
Instantly starts a questionnaire in my head:
Is something wrong in me,
or am I actually beautiful like a bubbly stream?
Why do these heads turn to stare at the chaos in me,
or in love with my serenity?