i shape my words to fit in
it’s the era
where shallow
eats meaning, where
happy eats the sad, where
hedonism eats the hapless. where
my words are reviewed as pretentious, where
literature’s been branded as a language of snobs, where
my love for words is dismissed as unimportant for genre.
write so that your words reach the masses, everyone says.
as if the masses are only confined to read what’s deemed
mindless — why are we letting that happen? why’s every
teenager confined to the realms of the market, where
love & sex takes height? am I not important if I’m
not a girl? am I not important if sexual attraction
never seeped into my head? am I not important
if loving, to me, looks different?
tell me, how much should I sell
my identity to find myself a
place? tell me, do I feel too
much? am I too sad to be
successful? does happiness
make money, and sadness
only mockery? tell me, will
I ever be wanted? will I ever fit?
Mittu Ravi writes poetry, short stories, and opinionated essays on the writing life and industry. Find more of their work and their socials here.
