Death is a funny thing,
Isn’t it?
Maybe in 20 more years,
Or maybe in the next minute.

Who knows?

We might die this instant from a nuclear blast
Or maybe from a broken past.

A gun at the top of my head
And a knife at the base of my throat.
A hopeless cry falls dead from my eyes
And yet,
No one notices.

Because now,
Suicide is the trending topic.
And,
“Is that girl more than 110? She is fat then.
Is her size less than 2?
No? Then stop eating you useless fool!”

Can’t you see how we’ve become?

This is a normal talk at school
And yet,
No one seems to hear.

Because according to them,
Blondes are still stupid
And fellow glass weares are still nerds.

Because according to them,
We are just being the better person
If we are the ones holding the gun.

But what about those at the end of the weapon?

Death and pain and misery are
Our new oxygen.
But we never breathe out life,
We breath out those nasty remarks
About size of our bodies,
When instead of looking at a scale
We should be looking at the results.

A crying, hopeless girl or
An underappreciated boy.

Can’t you see what we’ve become?

Instead of being those angels creating light
We are the messengers of the devil,
Bring lies.

And yet,
No one notices.
Because we don’t look past fake smiles
And we only check the wrists but not thighs.

Because we only care for the exterior,
Not what’s inside.