Perennial Poetry

Unwritten Pages  I try to refind the lost pieces of me, This mosaic of all broken things Is the raw, unfiltered me, Ready to fly with my wings. I will go to far places, Where the eyes can’t see; I will meet new faces, And share with them the magical me. Life awaits for me In the most precious of ways; All there is to life is to dwell in glee, Despite any circumstance I face. So tiny steps I take, Towards my dreams, And leave it to life to make them come true, By the most wondrous of means. The best is yet to come, Many pages yet to be written, What has happened is just some, There are more moments waiting for me to be smitten. -Jaanvi Veluguleti  

  Her When the whole world praises her beauty, Only she knows the stories behind her scars, The things she goes through quietly, And the days she feels like she’s put behind bars. Sometimes she fakes a smile, For the sake of her and everyone else; She is appreciated for her unprecedented style, But who cares about the things she never tells? She wears her heart on her sleeve, She undoubtedly is an admiration; But would anyone really believe The life she lives behind people’s perception? She cares and she loves, She offers endless support without hesitation; But she also cries and questions Her worthiness despite the external perfection. She knows her scars mark her stories, They make up who she is; Despite all her glories, There is always more to who she is. -Jaanvi Veluguleti