Meesha

Girl of the Station, beckon me home
to the security tower you’ve claimed as your own
but it’s not your home.
Sea-irised wonder, make me surrender
plans of wellbeing and all that would hinder
a return to home.

No longer
the writings
No longer
the replicas
of who I want to be.
I admit
it’s a sham…
Who I am is not them.
Who I am is not them.

Girl of the Station, the movie you reel
captures the audience. We’re able to feel you.
I taste your breath.
Siren of diffidence, give up your shame
a compliment of any sort should never be in vain.
Now get some rest.

No longer
the façade.
No longer
the lies
of who we want to be.
So called “truth”?
It’s a scam.
Who we are is not them.
Who we are is not them.

Let yourself be loved.
Let yourself be loved.