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  • aleesa 4d

    These cold and restless winter nights
    snatch the air and life out of my lungs
    The night sky sheds off the shimmering stars
    as cold, lifeless and soft snowflakes,
    to beautifully bury the summer sun,
    amid past tales and vibrantly pale flowers
    I try to catch the cold snowflakes
    in my shivering and pink palms
    in hope of listening the same lullaby,
    which reaches the summer rain and breeze
    For my lashes fail to close on their own
    when December nights knock on starry skies
    I'm scared to fall asleep for I don't want
    these brutal nights to snatch the remaining smiles
    I just wait sleepless, dreamless and hopeless
    for another April sky to spread its wings
    over the tired,dark and fading horizon

    ~aleesa

    December 5'21
    @writersnetwork @miraquill

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    I AM SCARED TO FALL ASLEEP

  • aleesa 4w

    Darling!
    Learn to carry
    The different kind of wilds
    Growing on the surface of your skin
    With grace and pride
    Just like earth loves,
    The tall,firm and dark flowers
    That grow on it's surface,
    Fearlessly.

    ©aleesa

  • aleesa 5w

    Darling!
    Promise me again those sweet and beautiful lies
    Under the azure of vast and surreal October skies
    For I don't want these dying autumn leaves
    To eternally smell like apocalyptic goodbyes
    ©aleesa

  • aleesa 6w

    Someday the July sun will stop shining on my skin
    And the azure of October sky will not smell like happy endings
    I won't be able to feel the warmth of a soft blanket while sipping coffee and catching snowflakes in my hand
    The rainfall won't remind me of life and beginnings
    And being aware of the ending of my existence makes ordinary things so much more beautiful
    ©aleesa

  • aleesa 16w

    I will die on some July afternoon
    underneath the summer sky
    with fluffy clouds scattered everywhere
    The zephyr will be teasing
    drooping branches of a lofty pine tree
    and birds will chirp melodies
    celebrating the best life ever lived
    and I'll be buried in the brown soil
    with hue like the tanned dead skin of mine
    The sky will shine brightest that night
    and everybody will believe in outer space
    I will be buried beneath lush green grass
    and lavenders will surround my eternal home,
    A place from where I'll forever have
    The best view of a dying summer sky
    To tell me that I'm finally free

    •Aleesa Khan
    August 18'21

    @writersnetwork @miraquill #pod #romanticizec

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  • aleesa 20w

    With tears in his eyes
    And a heavy heart
    Asked the little boy
    While staring at the failing eyes
    Of his dying mother

    "What is death father?"

    "It's a lullaby", father said
    " A lullaby God sings to tired hearts and broken souls."

    •aleesa

    @writersnetwork @miraquill #mondo (i guess����)

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  • aleesa 21w

    I wonder if sunflowers feel lonely
    When they see a gloomy sky
    Precipitating over the vast fields
    Of a valley filled with joy and flowers
    Do they feel like that blue lipped boy
    Who takes colourful pills
    To stop the civil war in his lungs
    He lives in a place of flowers
    And screams at the creator of sky
    Trying not to stop blooming like those
    Melancholic yellow flowers
    Maybe his heart shimmers
    Everytime the sky changes colours
    For he believes the changing hues
    Of a stagnant sky
    Will make his withering life
    bloom again
    Seeing no hope of a springing life
    He lowers his head every night
    Mourning over his less celebrated life
    And withers away with the dying flowers

    [cancerous kid]

    ~aleesa


    @writersnetwork @miraquill @ovais43 @sighsandskies @tamanna3 @siddiqua_

    @writersnetwork thanks for the repost! ��♥️

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  • aleesa 29w

    Those crumbled suicide notes
    With bleeding ink and indecipherable handwriting
    hold a story of fear and trauma
    Every wrinkle on that white paper inked with a dark story
    Wants to scream and make the chaos certain
    The same unending chaos people fail to understand
    And mistake as a temporary stage
    every lazy caterpillar goes through
    before turning into beautiful butterfly
    They say there is a story behind everything
    How those wrinkles form on someone's face
    And how withered and crushed roses end up
    in old books with faded and yellow pages
    But people often fail to see the real story
    Behind those marked and scarred wrists
    And always mistake them as
    symbol of some brutal heartbreak
    I wonder if they understand how cruel
    those demons that reside in heads could be
    The same demons that are cruel enough
    To leave someone breathless and empty
    at two in the morning
    I wonder why people never see
    The crushed dreams behind fragile eyelashes
    Which hide the teary eyes that were once filled with stars
    Maybe those colourful scarves with floral prints
    Wouldn't hang from the ceiling at midnight hours
    If people learnt to be a little kind
    ©AleesaKhan

    @writetsnetwork @mirakee
    ___________

    Kindness :
    Loaning someone your strength instead of reminding them of their weakness.

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  • aleesa 29w

    I bleed blue
    For there is ink that flows in my veins
    It takes unbearable melancholy
    to transform a random arrangement of words
    into a poem
    What seems art to you is actually
    a history of heartbreaks
    Poems are mosaics made of broken pieces of a heart
    Which seem like a perfect blurry art
    But if you look closer you'd see each verse holds a different hue
    The metaphors are bathed in crimson blood
    Which oozes out from an empty part
    Whose origin is unknown to me
    My insecurities taught my bones
    What simile and personification means
    The changing phases of this cruel universe
    Exposed my skin to uncertainties
    And made it write words which are called imageries
    The never ending pain and suffering
    Resulted in my addiction to repeat words and letters
    which sometimes smell like blood drenched petrichor
    The blurry mosaics hold their own tiny universe within
    Poems know secrets of the person who writes them
    For they breathe the pain that erupts
    from the soul of their creator
    So the next time you see a blurry poem
    know that it's a story of an undefeated warrior
    Who learnt how to grow poetic flowers
    From tears, heartbreaks and unending suffering
    • Aleesa Khan

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #mosaic

    #pain #poets #poems
    _________________________


    P.S. I really wanted to participate in today's prompt so I wrote something which doesn't make sense to me -_-

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  • aleesa 30w

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