KAASHVI SHAH

The ceiling is a bit leaky, The bucket is always half full. There's a little hole in the wall A mouse routinely comes through. The shower curtain is only  A sheer piece of cloth, But this little shed  Is our merry abode. We eat fritter pancakes for breakfast, Before I leave for school. She helps me with my homework, And then we read storybooks. She braids my hair each day, She hugs me goodnight. Then she plays my little guitar And  sings me a lullaby. What more would I need? I know I'm loved. Yes, the ceiling is a bit leaky. But my dresses are always ironed, My sheets are always warm, My belly is always full. She does it all! We sing along to Mamma Mia songs, We call ourselves Gilmore Girls. We read Little Women and Jane Austen, And we watch Anne of Green Gables. We sing, we laugh, we dance, we play, I cry in her lap some days; The ceiling is a bit leaky. The mean girls at school mock and tease But she is my best friend, I've got her to keep. She buys me birthday presents...

I grew up in a house that was always on fire,  But from the outside it looked just fine.  It's a white house with blue shutters And a big porch wrapped around it outside.  But the windows are always locked shut.  The house doesn't have a front door at all And neither a chimney to let out the smoke,  So I suffocate while the ashes burn my eyeballs.  The house keeps on burning, there's no fire escape,  No extinguisher, nobody who could help in sight,  But the passers by think the house looks so pretty And wonder such lucky people must live inside; But every glass shattered, every swear, every hand raised Burned in the back of my mind.  A house so quiet from the outside Was only filled with hate, screams, threats in fiery eyes That burnt my heart, and the hands that burnt my skin at night.  I rush to my room and shut the door,  Since I can't put out the fire nor clear the smoke.  I weep and pray the fire won't reach me at all But ...