Independent Poem 2: Bhargavi

Canvas of Self

Layers of strength and diminishing colour, 

Passed down by myself, 

Only to stray away weaknesses, 

Which they scratched onto my birth slate.

Those who told me I couldn’t or I could, 

And those who kept me be, 

Muddled up, bound to their say, 

Made me strive to get paint.

On and on I coloured myself, 

Extravagant colours- to try and be different, 

‘Till one day time called me to stay, 

And layer them dark, without any say.

I then created defence, 

To all those crumbling emotions, 

And those exhaustive wants, 

Guarding myself from being helpless.

The wants, needs- it all became clear, 

Where my voice rose only when the colour was touched, 

And as I thickened my shell, 

I let in only some.

But that is becoming harder, 

As times are becoming bleaker, 

I find solace in the thickness, 

Since it’s merely a colourful stroll.

I won’t fret to say, ‘It’s okay’ to be and to live, 

Where once it became harder, 

It now just isn’t.