Poem Uncategorised

Endangered adolescence

By: Vaishnavi

The implausible wishes of an adolescent,
Riding on Unicorns and cuddling dolphins,
While their peers, tantalising them,
Unaware of the fact that they too shall face the same fate.
When can I meet Santa, they questioned in glee,
For, they entrusted him to deliver their presents by midnight
Their smile melts your heart,
for all they wish is to ride a reindeer,
With well-shaped beautiful antlers and a red nose
This being just the beginning,
Their childish desires know no bounds.
For, in their whimsical world,
Even a mere toy seems to understand their gibberish.
Tiny objects seem more lifelike,
The sight of colours amuses them.
They yearn to dance on rainbows,
and enchant those around them.
A small present or a mere gesture,
be it a candy or a simple hug seems amusing,
They are simply bundles of joy.
So jejune and puerile,
Their imagination is truly fascinating,
Each day they have irrational wishes.
Their innocence needs to be preserved,
before they break free and come out of their shells,
As they grow more mature and leave behind their childishness,
They look back at this chapter of their life and wonder,
Was I really that doltish?
For, now all they dream about is their present goal.
“ I miss the old me”‘, they sigh!
Their innocence is now long gone.

death feelings humans Lessons life Love people personal Poem story

A ballad for the love of death.

By: Ashar

I heard a sound, as faint as her tone

The sun was as shy, the river was nigh

For the world was in a spiral, a story for one’s dawn

I drag by my reflection across the sands of her bly


Caught my eye, bright as the sun flickering by the ocean

Fresh as her soul was the dress she wore, ashen

The air gazing through my chest spout out alive

Ah! But her heart was of stone, she could not thrive


A story of betrayal, sorrow, and love

It was what made us whole for each disfigured

To each of their own, the darkness came from above

Images dancing of our hands together, walls lingered


Golden hair, purple eyes, mango residue

A gentle smile, soft-touch, there were only a few

Warm lighting, cozy was her sensation, innocent like a barn owl

Writing about her I wonder who was she under her cowl


Running through the park, memories rewritten, like a dandelion shawl

Giggling and looking at each other, oh! did we fall.


She might be gone, fixed was she, for I was broken once more

By my dishonesty, I don’t understand why she has to go

Young was her spirit, or so spoke her lore

Everything seems clear, blinded by the snow


It was as if yesterday she was my guardian

Couldn’t see for she was my grim reaper

Shredded once again, I started to wonder


Who was she when I first met her, I heard the accordion

Who were are we really?

change feelings Poem Thoughts Uncategorised

Ascended Reality


It’s a privilege to be able to live, that much is true

I’m special just for being born into this world, who can argue

Yet I feel no gratitude inside my special body

Hating this world, may be too melodramatic but it has become a hobby

You can’t prevent me from feeling extremely bitter

Especially as I relate my entire existence to discarded litter

What a waste of energy it is to breathe in this society

So don’t blame me when I try to ascend this very own reality 

Where everything feels magical as I’m stuck in my self-made fantasy 

I can write my own story to create results that are so satisfactory

Every moment of this simulation feels real and so damn perfect

The people here are flawless and true, people with whom I have a connect

Maybe that’s why it hurts when I forget all of it is fake

Having unreal expectations from people who never matched them in the first place was perhaps, a mistake

I feel like I’m a success in this fake world as I do everything I dreamt of and more

Meanwhile in reality I’m just laying in my bed, dreaming while my body feels sore

Feeling low and depressed for no other reason but my delusional mind

Which has written everything so damn thoroughly the actual reality now feels so confined

Being out with friends where I’m supposed to be happy, joyful and most of all I should be grateful

Yet here I am zoning out trying to ascend once again to the world where I’m not hateful

Burdening myself with a lone wolf act as I push people away for no apparent reason

Never feeling I can connect permanently as my mind brings forth its grievance 

With the world around me being as it is and not how it should be in my authored story

The story where instead of being a bore I manage to grasp at glory

Realisation slowly crawls on me that this story isn’t a perfect world realised but rather an excuse

A simulation to hide in, one where I may be of some use

For even when there exists a person I can finally permanently connect with, find peace as I drop my disguise 

The over-dependence on a single source of happiness can oftentimes lead to its demise

The truth is that this ascended reality isn’t a haven but rather a prison

Where my doubts, fears, and insecurities haven’t been quenched but rather they’ve arisen

It’s time I face the truth and accept the cold hard fact

For as much as I pretend and hide, this is a concept that really isn’t that abstract

As in the dreams of an idealised flawless future that is better than my past

I’m sleeping on my present and letting my dark emotions everlast

change people personal Poem Self story World

Stories Under The Sun


There’s a story I want to write about a man

Who lives in the house next to mine

Or in the house across the street

Or about a butterfly that interweaves a pattern

Around the pointed edges of a fern in my backyard;

A pattern that almost resembles a cocoon.

On most afternoons I see you before me,

Sweat glistening brighter than the rays of sun that

Burn dreams to a crisp outside.

In the moments I don’t see you, I envision you lying next to me,

Your face in close proximity.

Aren’t mirages supposed to cease?

The stories I want to tell never want to be told by me.

I want to write about how the man in the house

Stares at the butterfly every morning as he steps out

To collect his day’s newspaper;

How I am unsure if the butterfly dances for him

Or if he buys the newspaper as an excuse to witness

The former’s grace.

Of course, there are obvious plot holes in this story.

The butterfly wouldn’t live long enough for this to become

A habit for the man, and men do not need

Newspapers as an excuse to glance at a thing of beauty.

In the past, I wanted to be the kind of poet who describes

Her lover with only the most exquisite of metaphors

But I’ve realized I might not be the kind of person who

Likes to talk about her lover or even call someone her lover

For that matter.

To be honest, I’m not even a poet in the first place.

The thing about the sun is that you don’t talk about it.

It is enough to bathe in its presence,

To feel its rays on your skin even when you’re not looking.

It is enough to know it sustains you even when it is beyond 

Your hemisphere’s line of sight.

What I mean is,

On my most afternoons, when I press my eyelids shut,

You’re the glowing sphere of light at the back of my mind

And maybe for tonight, that’s the only story I need.

change chilling Day death Family feelings Friends growing up Happiness humans Lessons life Love people personal Poem Self Thoughts World

Till death did us part.


There didn’t pass a day you weren’t on my mind

There wasn’t an act that didn’t turn my thoughts to you

There didn’t exist a time you didn’t reside in my heart

There is not alive another soul like you

I can’t imagine a life without you



Yet here we are, 

On opposite sides of a fine, fine line

Nothing new, nothing amiss

Only this once, the line is an abyss



You dance with death

Whilst I stare from across a chasm

Living a lie

Knowing you court death

How could you leave me

To fend all alone

I know not how to live

Without you by my side

You brought out the worst in me

And you brought out the best

Yet there you are 

Caught in death’s tempest

There is no one else like you

No one I respect as I did you

Another quip, just one other taunt

Anything, anything to get you back



Whom will I thank for all that you have done?

Who will fill this void you have left?

Whom will I challenge, whom will I fight?

Whom will I grind to dust in my wake?



There was love in this enmity we shared

There was meaning in our story of hate

There was purpose in our every war

There was elation in our rivalry



There doesn’t pass a day you aren’t on my mind

There isn’t an act that doesn’t turn my thoughts to you

There doesn’t exist a time you don’t reside in my heart

There is not alive another soul like you

I can’t imagine my life without you.

change chilling life Love people personal Poem Self story Thoughts Women World

His Absence


His eyes spoke more than his mouth, 

I don’t know whether it was my thoughts, 

My reflection, in those eyes

Or that was his own?

I don’t know if he loved me the most?

But I know, I know for sure, that I loved him the most!



There’s more flesh & blood walking same foot with me, 

Closer beings around me I care about but

But his Absence seems a lot to be filled by these all.



And know that dear I will wait for you in each life, I swear!

I am not sure I will recognize you or not, 

I am not sure you will remember our connection or not, 

I am not sure you will come to me or not, 

But I am sure that I need you to come. 



I called you ‘handsome’, I meant that with all my 5 senses;

You are still the best boy I ever laid my eyes on !



You were the most graceful of any of your loyal kind,



I believed that you will die along minutes, hours, days & years with 

My fading memories but I was wrong, 

True! My memories are fading like it always does

But your absence is living by consuming mine inside,



It’s making me hollow !



But I am waiting, I am waiting for your love to fill me from inside

Cell by cell, feeling by feeling, it will;



I hope it does.



Because I know my love for you is stronger than your absence, 

Stronger than the absence of your touch, 

Stronger than your irritation for me, 

Stronger than your protectiveness for your food !



It is the strongest force in the universe!

It’s infinity times stronger than the strong nuclear force !



But my lord, that damn painful fact stands true 

that I MISS YOU!

life people personal Poem Self story Thoughts Uncategorised World



To all writers,


I am an archaic judge of your poetry 

balancing thy heart in the depths of my envy

Not envious of the talent you possess

I am a walking reincarnation of the papers you tore. 


I am often enraged at your passing gimmicks. 

The blatant disrespect remotely surprises me too, 

You carve your fervent poetry in my deep roots,

and with one syllable mistake, throw me in the rubble. 


But it is not just my voice calling out to you. 

It is our voices as we are littered all around you. 

The trash can at the other end of the room sighs too,

You could’ve given us a respectful burial, at the very least.


The words you write aren’t always yours

Inebriation is your only friend to get through. 

You weep when you string a few incoherent words,

then throw away the sheet tinted with your stained sorrow. 


I am not calling you out as you would think, 

I am merely calling you an emotional wreck. 

I might seem a little bitter now; In my defense, 

there wasn’t enough sugar in my coffee, to begin with 


But let me wrap up my note as soon as possible. 

I find it improbable that you’d acknowledge me anyways. 

I know that I am just a mere draft,

But could you please not throw me in the damn rubble? 



That sheet you crumbled and threw away

change death Efforts feelings growing up Happiness humans Lessons life Love Opinion people personal Poem

Good On Paper


Folding a yellow paper, 

my grandfather schooled me 

how to build a paper plane, 

he put a paperclip on the plane 

& said, “it’ll fly farther dear.” 

I grinned and abused many papers 

while trying to make planes and 

The lonely old chap was smirking as 

I saw a gorgeous morning

on his wrinkled face.

I wrote, “Hello, I like you.”

on a reddish-pink paper

While holding my thirteen years of courage 

& with my best friend’s moral strength, 

I gave that paper to that popular girl 

but her “sidekicks” beat me black and blue 

but I beamed when a soft zephyr

from the window caressed my cheek 

while passing through her golden brown hair.

Trigonometry, algebras and mensuration 

the last page of my mathematics notebook 

was resembling like a garbage centre 

while I got occupied with the reckoning 

of my life and inside the 

totting-up of my flummoxed existence

 where a newspaper on my table 

was gaping for someone’s nudge.

And one day, I departed this journal

while bowing down my head 

to the enigmatic candour of death 

I gulped some darkness but couldn’t vomit 

I chewed many sighs but couldn’t sigh 

I gnawed some lies but couldn’t stop a death 

and to prove the end of my extant, 

The faceless paper granted me the final gift 

My very own “Death Certificate.”

change Lessons life Love Opinion people personal Poem Self story Thoughts Uncategorised World

Second Thoughts


Yes, I got second thoughts

Under the radiant moonlight

I found a soothing darkness within it

And let it take control over my mind

It leaked from the broken window

Illuminating despondency within this child

Mortals chase me to stay by my side

Struggling to protect me from this infect

They mould my sadness to dexterity

And constructed a castle to protect

But what can a castle of sand do?

Under the shower the castle has no effect

I don’t know who will I trade with

My Perforate for their Perfect

When I see mortals being mortals

Yes, I live by my Second thoughts

But what else can I do?

When this low life has been bought


Yes indeed I have tried and gave my all

But when I see mortals being immoral

Only thing I can do; is accept the deep dark fall

Every day I live the life of a rock

Unnoticed and kicked by pedestrians

And Every night I present myself

On the other side of the valedictorians 

I am auctioned 

By the amount of abuse I can possess

Physically I stand strong

But my sanity is broken into pieces

I can’t write any more for anyone

My pen ran out of ink today

I craved on the paper with an invisible ink

Yet no words will be casted on the screen today

I thought I will be missed; I will be adored

If I took a trip back to my comfort place

I forgot I was a pedestrian punted pebble

A nobody replaced by another face

That night heavens rained and rained

The dark clouds poured tears for me

I was long dead for them

But now at least the sinner was set free

I danced blissfully to the edge of the aisle

I hugged myself cuz I had no one else to

As i jumped off with a smile

As I fell I saw where I was standing

I saw a younger me looking back

He had no grief but he was disgusted

Then, I didn’t realized what I lacked

But then again those second thoughts

Came back to ask me:

The uncanny man walking along the breeze

“Is this where I am supposed to be?”

Maybe yes, maybe no

But I guess it’s too late to be afraid

Cuz the mortals found another one of them

Sleeping gleefully under a soothing shade

change chilling feelings Happiness journalism Lessons life Love personal Poem Self Thoughts Uncategorised World

Mirror, mirror on the wall



Mirror on the wall

My thoughts drown me as I wonder what I could ask you, So many endless possibilities, so many questions to ask. No wonder I sit here with stained cheeks, asking you for answers I already know. I don’t want to be absolute, but I must ask what I’ve always wondered:

Who is the most demoralized of them all? 

You don’t mold into any shape. Instead, you stare at me with silence so defying that I hear my rumination. From my peripheral vision, I see you grin like a Cheshire cat, gloating at my misery. Stop breathing down my neck, mirror. For I beg to you, answer the questions I ask.


mirror on the wall,

Why is silence your only answer?

I have crippled beneath you. You’ve watched me melt into a puddle. You show me who I hate the most. You laugh as I disintegrate. Why are you mocking me? Why are you calling me names? Stop showing me down. Stop talking to me. 


mirror on the wall,

Why do you show me down?

Why do you remind me of moments I failed? Why do you show me the one I hate the most. When I look at you with stained cheeks, why do I find a reflection laughing back at me?

Why do I hear you taunt me? 


mirror on the wall, 

please pick me up from the dust. 

embrace me with your arms, 

don’t let me fade, today

Let me love who you show, 

don’t tear me to pieces for your fun,

cradle me in your arms. 

Whisper sweet nothings in my ears.

I don’t know why I talk to you, but you’re the only one who sees me drown. I don’t ask you to save me now. All I ask for is a hand to hold. Not another person’s but of the one you show. 


mirror on the wall, 

don’t smile at my misery tonight. 

Let me sleep in peace for today,

so that I can wake up to eternal silence. 

Let me rest today,

for all eternities, silence to face

Calm my mind, take my soul 

don’t gloat at my misery, 

don’t tether me to my demise. 


mirror on the wall, 

Let me rewrite my story.