If treating every child of God
with equal love is called a sin—
then yes,
I’ll gather that sin like treasure.

If feeding the hungry,
the abandoned, and the voiceless
before bowing to stone and ritual
is called a sin—
then yes,
I’ll cradle that sin in my arms.

If following the whisper of my heart
instead of society’s loud commands
is called a sin—
then yes,
I’ll protect that sin like a flame.

If loving beyond caste,
beyond walls, beyond reputation
is called a sin—
then yes,
I’ll carry that sin proudly.

And if my joy, my truth,
my soul’s freedom
is born from what they name sinful—
then let the world condemn me.
I’ll wear every sin like a crown,
for I love to collect sins.

S.tara.R

I wish
I had my own house
in a quiet corner of the world—
with a waterfall singing,
trees standing still,
and birds carrying my secrets in their wings.

A place where I had my own freedom—
to breathe without fear,
to cry without shame,
to laugh without limits.
To wear whatever I want,
to do anything weird,
to simply exist as me.

A place where my emotions could live—
to show love without hesitation,
anger without guilt,
sadness without silence,
uneasy without pretending.

I wish
I had my own life to live,
not just to survive—
not scared,
not disappointed,
not hiding my heart behind masks,
not pretending to be strong
when I just want to be free.

I wish…
I had my own life.

S.Tara.R

I want to be a bad woman,
A bad woman who never asks for permission,
A bad woman who makes her own decision.

I want to be a bad woman,
Who never chokes her dreams in the name of family reputation,
Who chooses freedom,
Every time, over chains disguised as “nice.”

I want to be a bad woman,
Never bound to silence,
Never forced to smile at respect-killing jokes,
Never told, “be a good girl” —
Because my voice will break the smoke.

I want to be a bad woman,
Who cries when she must,
Who shouts when she burns,
Who laughs too loud,
And sits as she pleases —
Unmoved by stares,
Unchained by fear.

I want to be a bad woman,
Who never hides, never begs, never pretends,
Who never makes herself the last option,
But the first.

I want to be a bad woman
A bad woman who chooses happiness over crown of greatness and sacrifice

I really want to be a bad woman
A bad women who's never
Scared of calling out
As bad daughter
Bad wife
Bad mother
And "BAD WOMEN"

While choose breathe instead of suffocation

I want to be a bad woman,
Who breathes freely,
Without measuring her air,
Without asking, “am I allowed?”
Who doesn't apologize for existing

I really want to be!

S.Tara.R

Falling for pain…
Sounds weird, right?
But I fall for pain
Every time I get hurt.

I want to feel pain deeply,
Because it’s the only one
Always closest to my heart.

As soon as I get hurt—
Never late, never early,
Always on time,
To cover my heart
With his warmth.

I fell intensely for
His warmth.
He feels familiar,
Always with me—
In my sorrow,
In my memory.

My short-term memory
May lose my own identity once,
But never his familiarity.

Because now,
It’s no longer in my control—
I’ve already fallen for
Pain!

S.Tara.R

Sometimes I think
God never made caste system,
specific person for education,
incharge of freedom.
We are human who made government
and let them decide this…
But who the hell give them this right?
Us? But why we wanna live unfairly,
like a prisoner?

Is it unfair, trap or confusion?

Sometimes I think
God never made the chain of family,
pressurise marriages,
love according to caste or gender
particular beauty scale,
judgement basis of marks and achievements.
We are human who made society
and let them decide these things.
But who the hell give them these right?
Us? But why we love live in a chain?

Is it unfair, trap or just confusion?

Sometimes I think
God never made womens for house work,
and mens for society work.
We are humans who create patriarchy
and let it decide this.
But who the hell give them right
to choose who is superior,
who is inferior on the basis of gender?
Us? Women? But why women loves
to live their life like a prisoner,
who can’t even decide how freely she can breath?

Is it unfair, trap or just confusion?

Sometimes I think
we all are human mostly wants to be rich,
but still they gonna sell their jewellery
for peice of paper…

Is it unfair, trap or just confusion?

Sometimes I think
God never wrote anyone’s name on anything.
We are human who fight
for land, property, money.
Even we all know at the end,
in our grave we will not able to take anything.
We will go naked—
without clothes or any treasury.

Is it a trap?
Maybe it’s unfair.
No… maybe it’s confusion...

S.Tara.R

You say fairies are gorgeous—
I say you’re the prettiest.

You say fairies are kind, caring, loving—
I say you’re even more unassuming.

You say fairies don’t exist—
But I say: you do.

S.Tara.R

Perfect—
a word well known,
a word loved by most of us.

But have you ever wondered,
what is truly perfect?
What is perfection?

According to society’s scale,
perfect means no mistakes,
fitting their beauty mold,
carrying no visible fault.

And so, you look at yourself,
call yourself imperfect,
and feel insecure.

You feel insecure about the marks on your skin,
yet admire the moon.

You feel insecure about your introversion,
yet admire the peace.

You feel insecure about your body’s shape,
yet admire every creative form.

You feel insecure about your color,
yet admire the dark—
the beauty of stormy weather.

You feel insecure about your height,
yet make wishes with
dandelion flower.

You feel insecure about your own beauty,
yet your beautiful heart admire others without judgment.

Maybe—
you failed at receiving love, care, compliments.
But trust me,
you never failed at giving.

You say imperfection.
I say nahh!

just while creating you,
Even the Artist fell in love
So he painted nature upon you,
Filling his creation with beauty
called IM-PERFECT-ION....

YOU ARE THE MASTERPIECE LOVE,
Artist's favourite creation.....

S.Tara.R