I have been rewriting the dictionary in my quiet hours,
where words slip from their rags into brighter flowers.

The sad words that once wore coats of grey, 
now wear yellow scarves in a lighter way.

broken lets light slip by the cracks in its skin,
reminding us that beauty always glows from within.

betrayal still stings, is a mirror unkind,
but it forces you closer to truths you must find.

burden’s a stone that grows lighter when shared,
easier borne when more shoulders have cared.

defective is a record with scratches and skips,
but softly hums a tune on imperfect lips.

empty is a cup with a seat in the queue,
open and ready to be filled with something brand new.

failure, with soil sticking to its hands,
sows seeds that bloom only when time understands.

fear is a ladder that shakes, yet stays,
lifting you gently to braver days.

forgotten’s a book in the sun’s silent keep,
waiting for someone to wake it from sleep.

foolish is a child with too many whys,
sketching new worlds in the canvas of surprise.

guilt is a thread woven in the fabric of days,
pulling us back to amend and to rephrase.

heartbroken’s a heart that dared to bare,
a sign that it once opened and let someone there.

hopeless is the sky before one star is born,
dark only briefly, then pierced by the morn.

impossible sings like a dare in disguise,
a mischievous star winking low in the skies.

insignificant utters just a note, pure and small,
yet without it, the song would not matter at all.

lonely sets out a chair, steady and true,
saving a space till the right one finds you.

lost is no longer the end of the game,
just hiding in shadows till someone calls your name.

misfit belongs to another design,
a puzzle piece waiting for its picture to align.

regret is a tide that returns to the shore,
reminding us softly, “not this path once more.”

small is a pebble tossed into the stream,
sending out ripples much larger than dreamed.

stuck is the winter that quiets the land,
making more room for the spring to expand.

trapped is a caterpillar tucked out of sight,
holding its breath till it bursts into flight.

unhappiness comes like a storm in its prime,
but passes, leaving clear skies in time.

unlovable is a treasure buried in sand,
it waits for the seeker with a map in their hand.

worthless is gold in the dark kept away,
shining in silence till light finds its way.

The pages aren’t finished, not even half through,
some words are stubborn, still sulking in blue.

But as long as I live, as long as I roam,
I’ll keep reworking their meanings till I bring them all home.

- Neha Sharma