Author: Aarav Sancheti, Class XI G
We paste our smiles like plaster on walls,
And laugh the loudest when the heart bleeds most,
We shake firm hands in gilded banquet halls,
While quietly becoming our own ghost.
We preach of love in sanctimonious tone,
Then sharpen knives behind the backs we praise,
The tired eyes confess what lips won’t own,
A soul on fire hidden in a gaze.
Watch how the voice goes thin when truth draws near,
How silence fills the space where answers die,
How power dresses itself in robes of fear,
And calls it virtue underneath the sky.
We built a world of beautiful pretend —
Where no one breaks, and no one dares to mend.
some conversations
live in my head rent free
and the person
has no idea.
You were not made for the shallow end.
Not built for the safe answer,
the convenient silence,
the life that fits
inside someone else’s dream of you.
You were made for the deep water.
For the leap before the net appears.
For the poem written at midnight
when the rest of the world
chose sleep over truth.
So rise.
Not gently.
Rise like you mean it.
The clock doesn’t ask permission.
Neither should you.
GET UP.
Not slowly.
Not carefully.
Like the building is on fire —
because it is.
You have one life.
ONE.
Not a draft.
Not a rehearsal.
The real thing.
Right now.
This second.
The sun didn’t rise today —
it exploded.
And you hit snooze.
STOP WAITING.
For the right time.
For the fear to pass.
For permission.
You are the permission.
You were always
the permission.
Love loudly.
Create recklessly.
Speak the true thing.
Run at your life
like it’s the last train
and it is —
IT IS.
The days are dying.
Spend them.
Both hands.
Full speed.
No apology.
Burn so bright
they feel you
from a hundred years away.
CARPE DIEM.
Seize it.
Break it open.
LIVE.
She controls everything —
the room, the silence, the direction of eyes,
the speed at which people
dare to breathe near her.
And she is bored.
Not the boredom of having nothing —
the boredom of having everything
so complete, so long,
that even power has gone flat on the tongue
like a word repeated until it loses meaning.
Dominate. Dominate. Dominate.
She says it to herself sometimes,
just to feel the shape of it,
just to remind herself
this was supposed to mean something.
The most dangerous rulers
are not the cruel ones,
not the hungry ones —
they are the ones
who yawn
as they decide.
