Scale Things
by Ritika Roy Choudhury
I woke up one morning and thought to scale my perspective,
"look at the big picture" well shit, I have for a while,
and it's not pretty, we can all see it,
mother, who panics by nature, father, who's always a little snide,
and a three-year-old who looks at the world with big mouth,
and me.
and the folds, the grotesque folds spill over,
to everything else. No problem is too big to solve,
until you can't solve it.
So? Why should you shy away from a challenge that has trailed you,
since you were two?
Because, you littlest dewdrop lining my crown,
I only shine in my element, when it's handed to me on a plate.
Why take up the challenge and fail to start and stop what I ought?
Why not simply give up from the start?
Why does my shell slowly spread its rot?
The three-year-old says "ugly" and I believe it.
The inside too is ugly, I believe it.
Perhaps the flower burnt and wilted after a storm and a fire,
ripping out any hope or desire,
but was once a plump fresh bud in the breeze,
perhaps ungrateful of the comfort, the plenty, the ease.
but it set the spark and without warning the flame consumed
and consequences lined a decision made which turned to ten choices
to ten years, to a thousand, to ten thousand tears.
the tears become scars
that snake down like rivers and mark
my mark, a taboo, my life.
It's a story you can read in an instant,
a tragic story that repulses secretly and silently,
and you think I can't see but no scars run in my eyes or heart,
and I could always see and that's what ripped the flower apart.
And I try, I'm always trying, a battle in my head that doesn't quite connect with the digits,
and the bigger picture is always there, and I try and I try.
How dare you mock, how dare you assume.
I've been trying ever since I realized that the bigger picture was always there
in a mirror.
And apparently, it's just never enough.
----------------------
_____________
Poet's Note: Haha I wrote this one in 5 minutes at a time I was feeling particularly down. But I think I liked it enough to post it because it represents exactly how I feel sometimes, and I suppose, underlying all the time.
-------
Oct 14: On second thought, this is a terrible poem, I'm surprised I haven't deleted it.
by Ritika Roy Choudhury
I woke up one morning and thought to scale my perspective,
"look at the big picture" well shit, I have for a while,
and it's not pretty, we can all see it,
mother, who panics by nature, father, who's always a little snide,
and a three-year-old who looks at the world with big mouth,
and me.
and the folds, the grotesque folds spill over,
to everything else. No problem is too big to solve,
until you can't solve it.
So? Why should you shy away from a challenge that has trailed you,
since you were two?
Because, you littlest dewdrop lining my crown,
I only shine in my element, when it's handed to me on a plate.
Why take up the challenge and fail to start and stop what I ought?
Why not simply give up from the start?
Why does my shell slowly spread its rot?
The three-year-old says "ugly" and I believe it.
The inside too is ugly, I believe it.
Perhaps the flower burnt and wilted after a storm and a fire,
ripping out any hope or desire,
but was once a plump fresh bud in the breeze,
perhaps ungrateful of the comfort, the plenty, the ease.
but it set the spark and without warning the flame consumed
and consequences lined a decision made which turned to ten choices
to ten years, to a thousand, to ten thousand tears.
the tears become scars
that snake down like rivers and mark
my mark, a taboo, my life.
It's a story you can read in an instant,
a tragic story that repulses secretly and silently,
and you think I can't see but no scars run in my eyes or heart,
and I could always see and that's what ripped the flower apart.
And I try, I'm always trying, a battle in my head that doesn't quite connect with the digits,
and the bigger picture is always there, and I try and I try.
How dare you mock, how dare you assume.
I've been trying ever since I realized that the bigger picture was always there
in a mirror.
And apparently, it's just never enough.
----------------------
_____________
Poet's Note: Haha I wrote this one in 5 minutes at a time I was feeling particularly down. But I think I liked it enough to post it because it represents exactly how I feel sometimes, and I suppose, underlying all the time.
-------
Oct 14: On second thought, this is a terrible poem, I'm surprised I haven't deleted it.
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