She was told to take the left path,
It was the path to success,
He was told to take the right path,
The one to power,
They told me to travel back home,
Before I start crying,
Instead I got out my chisel,
And I paved my own path,
A path to happiness.

The Beach

A girl stood on the beach,
In her white gown and bunned-up hair;
she looked older.
She had run.
She had run from all she knew
And she never felt more alive.
She let her hair fall on her shoulders,
She had meant to cut it.

Years passed,
A girl stood on the beach,
In her pastel skirt;
she looked younger.
Pixie hair all over the place,
Nails painted black,
And a grin on her face.

– The Sly Badger


Picture Credits: Rucha Prubhudesai
Check out her amazing work here:




That was it.
Nothing more could describe the scene according to her.
Some might call it dull, grey;
others, calming.
She called it silence;
an escape from her madness, a paradise of sorts.
Nobody knew what she saw.
Nobody could understand it.
But why does it even matter?
People don’t know her to judge.
No, not here.
Not in her paradise:
Her Library.

-The Sly Badger.



My thoughts could be compared to dancing.
They don’t dance like elegant ballerinas,
Nor with the attitude of a street dancer.
They simply jump, twirl and turn;
to escape society’s caged thinking.

-The Sly Badger