Confident.


What gave her confidence, was a smile.
A confidence fuelled by a promise:
The promise though really, was only a big fat hope,
Eh! And no one actually told her that!
She hoped the promise would work,
She promised herself, a confidence in the planned.
So once sorted with her hopes of a good plan and promises of confidence,
She was there- ready to set out in that world they called a ‘stage’:
She was going to play all characters, or at least help others play their roles,
She would hand them their props appropriate to the scene and theme,
She would wear make-up and masks to animate the shows too.
All to make sure, that people who mattered, all smiled.
All to make sure, that there were enough people who mattered.
All to make sure, that the enough had been a good number, and was enough too;
All to make sure, that she could sign off peaceful, happy, and CONFIDENT.

-Stuti

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Hurt..


She wrote him a poem,
He bought her an erasor to rub the story.
She wrote him a prose,
To scratch it he chose.

Her feelings he scathed,
With just no regard.
Her steps never wrong,
He still forgot her like a song.

She’ll still love the times gone by,
With no word about it ever.
Those memories are special,
Will always remain dear.

The spite may grudge her soul,
But will fail to sour it.
She’ll never know the reason,
The reason may mar it.

So now with newfound failure,
And new hope for the future,
She chooses not to forget the past,
Still, re-create the present.

It may not be as bright as she had imagined,
But it will not be dull too.
Just one thing about this all mess
She will never build beautiful hopes ANYMORE.

-Stuti