Some poems make you laugh. Some make you cry. These two make you think. Valuable is a satire about what the world says your worth depends on. Self-Aware is about the quieter work of actually knowing yourself.
VALUABLE
The world says, I'm valuable if I look just right,
If my hair's perfect, and my smile's bright.
But I'm starting to think, that's just a trick —
Maybe I'm valuable even if I'm not slick.
I guess being valuable means being a star,
Like knowing every trend, every song, every car.
But wait, who needs skills or a personality?
As long as I'm "popular," who cares about reality?
I'm valuable when I laugh at all their jokes,
Even if they're lame and I'm just being polite — yikes!
When I follow all the "rules" they think I should,
And pretend I'm always perfect, misunderstood.
Oh, I'm so valuable when I don't speak my mind,
When I keep quiet and just try to be kind.
I mean, who needs opinions or dreams to chase?
Just blend in, fit in, and stay in your place.
But, let's talk for a second, I know this whole thing's a lie,
I'm valuable because I'm me, no need to try.
Not because I'm "perfect," or because I impress,
But because I'm genuine, and I know that's my best.
SELF-AWARE
Knowing yourself takes time to find,
I'm learning to listen to my own mind.
It's not always easy to face what is there,
To see every flaw, every scar laid bare.
It's catching the voice that whispers, "Not enough,"
And saying, "I'm worthy, even when it's tough."
It's knowing I'm growing, I'm not set in stone,
And finding my strength in standing alone.
Self-aware is feeling the weight of my fears,
And learning to name them through laughter and tears.
It's holding my dreams in the palm of my hand,
While knowing not all will go as I planned.
It's being okay with the mess that I am,
Not perfect, not flawless, but doing what I can.
It's choosing to learn, to stumble, to grow,
And embracing the things I don't yet know.
Self-aware isn't easy, it's raw and it's real,
It's the courage to feel what I need to feel.
It's a journey, a path, with no final place,
But it's mine to walk, at my own pace.
— Anaya Deshmukh, Daughters of India