You dream of a beautiful day
But all you see is a gloomy sky
And here’s yet another day to waste
With droopy eyes and an elongated sigh.

Alas! You have let the grim clouds
Blur the vision on your inside
No wonder the unpleasantness lurks
Beside you, with your each stride.

But have you ever tried to see the beauty of the day-
 Despite how the sky manifests? 
 For, maybe you have looked around too much;
 and forgotten, it’s within you that everything rests.



Butterfly © Smrithi Kini

Weaving myself a cocoon
with time’s unbreakable threads
I was sheathed in darkness
lost in search of myself

Scratching the shells of ignorance
I struggled my way out into the light
fluttering my unshackled wings
embracing the worldly wind

Among the bushes and beneath the leaves
retracting from the world, I count my days on earth
Mounting time’s unstoppable wagon
Finally I find peace, as I succumb to death.



They don’t know
the things you have been through;
the circumstances which have shaped you.

They don’t know
about the things you had to give up;
the scars you had to cover up.

They don’t know
about the inner battles you have fought;
the morals you have been taught.

They don’t know
the stories behind your actions;
the past which butchered you in fractions.

They don’t know
about the thoughts which echo in silence;
the times when you question your existence.




I find my writings buried deep;

beneath millions of verses-

phrased by people unknown;

leaving me crumpled and torn.

I stare at those neglected words

as my will burns down to ashes;

into the dirt, my thoughts downpour;

And I ask myself, ‘What am I writing for?’

Is it for a chunk of money or fame?

For a name or to be best in the game?

With the ‘neither and nors’ tied in loose knots,

I stumble upon my own thoughts.

When the ink stains the flawless white sheet

Amidst the stacks of strokes and curves, I discover

That my writings is all me; wild, natural and raw

And to be myself, the words must flow.



The fallen wings © smrithikini

People talked, taunted and trashed

until they spaded into my soul

Thrust their mouths upon my ears

and fed on my repressed fears.

They submerged me in their hollow words

And I came out gasping;

All frail and feeble

with a racing mind, unstable.

My life was sorely punctured -

with countless, fathomless holes;

All that seeped through was muck,

keeping me bound to the ruck.

I was pushed ahead,

but there was no ground beneath.

And I fell and I failed

Hit the rock bottom, my arms flailed.