229 posts
  • origamilines 6w

    Cry out loud

    The moon shines brightly
    With its silver lining
    A song pours in,
    A disturbing lullaby
    Slowly devoured by my ears- waking wretched memories,
    When a familiar touch brought shivers to my soul
    When a mouth couldn't speak against the crimes it didn't know
    I am sat here wobbling,
    With blood rolling down my soul that my mom cannot see
    And tears evaporate before they reach my cheeks
    I have heard herds singing,
    Empowering anthems
    But I cannot help but wither from the face of him even now.

  • broken_poet04 9w


    Ain't it funny, how easy it is to lie
    To look someone in the eye and say you're fine
    Ain't it funny, how people act as if they care
    When they aren't ever looking for a real answer
    Ain't it funny, how people throw around the word Fine
    Shrugging their shoulders and blinking away the tears
    Ain't it funny, how nobody cares about her bruises
    Or the way her own blood makes her want to bleed out
    Except she knows it isn't funny,
    And she knows she sure as hell ain't laughing

  • eishasarkar 14w

    Gone Goa Gone: Book 2 of The Goa Saga by Eisha Sarkar

    In the Age of Discovery, there were three identical crosses. Portugal’s King Manuel I had bestowed one on Vasco da Gama, who discovered the sea route to India. The second he had bestowed on Pedro Álvares Cabral, who discovered Brazil, and the third on Afonso de Albuquerque who established the Portuguese hegemony in the Indian Ocean. Over the centuries two of the crosses have disappeared. Probably they’re hidden away in some antique collectors’ vaults. The third hangs around James’s neck.

    A clause put in by an ancestor during the Inquisition in Goa prevents Aeram, a practising Muslim, from inheriting Richard Albuquerque's estates. Only his Christian son, James, can claim the title even though he was born out of wedlock. When Aeram presents Richard's will in court, Daniel Albuquerque aka Danny (Richard's cousin) contests the claim. James and Aeram battle the demons of their past to take on Danny and the very powerful Archbishop Patrick to save their estates.

    When Aeram and Saysha go to New York, they accidentally meet Igor Lebedinsky, a young intern at Aeram's agent's office. Saysha discovers that he's the son of Alexandre Lebedinsky, the mining tycoon from Moscow and brother of her deceased birth-mother.

    Saysha realizes that James is not an ordinary stuntman. Even her very rich and powerful husband is scared of him. In the forests around the Albuquerque villa on the banks of the Mandovi river, James finally shows her why the property means much more than mere inheritance.

    Now on Amazon Kindle

  • mighty_are_the_fallen 24w

    Where I'm from

    I am from somewhere closed,
    Like lids to boxes,
    A place waiting for a push,
    To let everything spill free.

    I’m from broken dreams and cursed things,
    Lies and family I never wanted,
    Things I never needed,
    Names I'll never speak.

    A place where grass grows too well in patches,
    Barrel lids in the yard,
    Bags in the freezer.

    A place where I leaned against the door too hard,
    Holding the handle too tight,
    Later smelling the copper on my hands,
    Stained to my soul like a streak of white.

    A place that tasted of tears,
    A place that tasted of screams.

    The feeling of adrenaline,
    Listening to the floorboards.

    Yellow bottles,
    Chalky taste.

    A deep humming,
    A sound you hear in horror movies.

    Is that gas?

    Stains on the carpet,
    What happened here?

    Static in my lips,
    Where did it go?

    A name I don't recognize,
    Who is she?
    Where I’m from is dead,
    Another green spot in the yard,
    Another bag in the freezer,
    Another stain in the carpet.

    It is a name I do not know,
    Pictures that are not mine,
    Faces I don’t remember,
    Smells that make me ache.

    I come from a place I will never returne,
    A place I leave to nightmares.

  • karenallen284 28w


    "What is written is written"
    "You are stronger because of what you've been through"
    People say the most cliché things when they try to comfort you during an uncomfortable experience.
    Need I remind them, I was 9 and left alone with the big bad wolf?

    As a child, I craved safety not strength.

  • karenallen284 31w

    It's hard to forgive someone who stole what I would describe as my pure innocence.

    22 years later, the thoughts of being touched and used over and over again, shoots daggers through my heart.

    The questions that replay over and over in my head are - Why did I not keep away? Why couldn't I stop it? Why did I keep going back?

    Then I wonder, after all these years, am I struggling to forgive the monster for doing those things or am I really struggling to forgive myself.


  • ekansh_original 32w

    Sometimes appearance hides the truth.
    #nanotales #mirakee #original #childabuse

    Read More

    "Stop sleeping in a class." Teacher shouted at him.
    "Father's anger don't let me sleep." The marks of belt on his back screamed.


  • kritika_15 32w

    The little SHE....

    Chasing the clouds, playing hide n seek with the trees
    She running on the ground to hug the cold breeze,
    Holding kite in one little hand,
    While waving the other in the air, those lil' legs measuring the land
    Happily and gleefully, dancing and singing down the lane,
    unaware of the wolves following to make her prey
    playing and running,
    giggling and babbling,
    Swinging in her own sway,
    she saw chocolates hanging in air a bit far away
    worked the bait and the little she ran towards her unfaithful fate
    jumped and jumped she to catch the bait and wolves catch her at the set
    shouted she alot,
    combated she alot,
    but the brazen claws didn't loose nor stop for even a clause
    hitting the poor little girl without any pause
    Uncle..uncle...no..please..help..no words everywhere
    but the ravenous heartless creatures drawn in lust not even eared
    outweared her modesty to level another
    unavoidable, unbearable pain the little age felt and suffered
    taking all her unlashed dreams and tiny tit-bits in the little eyes,
    mother's lullaby and father's stories in her ear
    the little she finally left for different sphere.....



    Read More

    The Little SHE....

    Shouted she alot,
    combated she alot,
    but the brazen claws didn't loose nor stop for even a clause,
    hitting the poor little girl without any pause,
    Uncle..uncle...no..please..help..noooo...words everywhere,
    but the ravenous heartless creatures drawn in lust not even eared,
    unavoidable, unbearable pain the little age felt and suffered,
    taking all her unlashed dreams and tiny tit-bits in the little eyes,
    mother's lullaby and father's stories in her ear,
    the little she finally left for different sphere.....


  • ashamurali 33w


    In the past one week, a reputed school is in the news for the wrong reasons. A teacher has misbehaved with students for the last several years but only now it has come to light thanks to the efforts of the alumni of the school who have given voice to the young hapless children who are still suffering at his hands.

    Abusers identify those kids who may be too timid to protest or succumb to their threats. In this way the abuse gets hidden and is never showcased and all efforts are taken to brush it under the carpet.

    Abuse by a person whom the child looks up to, scars the child for life and they become either aggressive or go into a shell in their adult life.

    Mirakee word of the day: secret. I shudder to think how many students have kept the secret and now finally have found courage to talk about it.

    Suitable checks and precautions for prevention of such crimes, stringent actions against the wrong doers and maximum awareness are possibly the best ways to handle abuse of children by some teachers.

    Let's make life safe for the next generation.

    #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod #warsinsidemec @mirakee @writersbay @writersnetwork #wod #secret #pod #psbb #childabuse #abuse

    Read More

    Buried Secrets

    As a teacher, he had a lot of clout,
    Ethics and morals, he dared to flout
    The child, timid and unable to shout,
    Her plight, who will help her to sort out?

    She saw him with fear in her eyes
    Whom will she go for advice?
    Will they think it is all bundle of lies?
    Will the secret be buried in her as cold ice?

    She was terrified and speechless,
    She felt weak and powerless,
    Oh! She was in deep distress,
    To whom will she complain and express?

    Abuse of any possible kind,
    Scars the tender young mind,
    The world prefers to be blind,
    It is victims who are often maligned.

    Like sweet angels from above,
    Her seniors gave her support and love ,
    The issue got all media attention,
    He is now finally in detention.

    She has thus become a protogonist,
    Of kids, abused by people they trust,
    Hopefully no child ever falls prey to lust,
    And schools remain institutions august.


  • p_pranali 35w

    Am a luckless child
    With dreams piled
    Under the fake notion
    Of the family ocean.

    Where my dad scream
    And mom's tear gleam
    Depriving for their love
    Hiding in darkness of glove.

    Birth giver of mine
    Caretaker of mine
    Or thief of my smile
    The Almighty One!

    Should I beg
    Should I cry
    Or should I die
    The Almighty One!

    The innocence once lost is swayed forever.
    Same as the zephyr in the stormy wind.


    #writersnetwork #writersbay #childabuse #child #domesticviolence #ceesrepost

    Read More

    once lost
    is swayed
    same as
    the zephyr
    in the
    stormy wind.


  • precious_nothings 38w

    Note: Try reading this from the perspective of a child who has suffered abuse from loved ones and still chooses silence instead of speaking out about it. Then it'll make sense? Idk. Eh... Looks bad eh?

    #childabuse #abuse #trauma #poemsforthebroken

    Read More

    Of Glasses and Bridges and Love

    On days it gets cold
    like December's frosty pride,
    My friend wears a
    yellow woollen muffler,
    Each yarn blessed with his
    momma's prayers and I,
    I wear bruises for Christmas,
    each line screaming abuse.
    Can I trade places with him?

    My momma loves in pieces,
    her touch renders me to ashes.
    Her curses leaves me begging
    But I want it all...
    Her love, in halves or pinches.
    Don't leave me hanging on nothing.
    I'll trapeze in her circus if it'll make her glance at me twice.

    Beneath this turtleneck and
    PJ's I wear, I hide a forest of
    razor cuts and cigarette burns.
    Uncharted territory
    Ain't nobody allowed to
    set foot here... An infernal
    maze I call it.
    You wouldn't trade places with me.

    I walk on glasses and loose
    hanging bridges, fragmented
    pieces piercing flesh.
    For filial piety, I trade it all.
    My suffering silence stamped
    on my lips, sealed and packed,
    These imprinted footsteps
    signed with blood.

    A sunny afternoon at
    our backyard, the party's set,
    A tea party, the cups and saucers,
    the cake's laid. The kettle
    whistles and momma laughs.
    One... Two... Three...
    She tempts the devil my
    arm and steam does scald
    but listen... She holds me longer
    than yesterday and she laughs,
    I told you I'll trapeze in her circus
    Four... Five... Six...
    She held me six seconds
    longer than yesterday.


  • suhani05 42w

    So , most of the ppl know abt sex-selective abortion.
    It is the practice of terminating a pregnancy based upon the predicted sex of the infant.
    It's mainly done in girl child case which means male children are more valued as compared to female children.
    According to me , abortion is a murder.
    No one has right to kill anyone before his /her birth.

    As mentioned above in the poetry , a girl child is telling her feelings to her mother nd blaming her also that her mother is killing her. So .. absolutely no, in most of the cases , the mothers are forced by their family to abort the girl child.
    There is no intension to blame only a mother for the abortion.

    Thnkyou @_aradhana di for suggesting me this topic❤️✨

    #abortion #abort #abortagirlchild #girl #girlchild #mother #motherfeeling #womenempowerement #femalefoeticide #hiphopculture #standbyher #protectgirl #women #saveagirlchild #safety #indiafoeticide #stop #girlabortioninindia #abortionlaw #stopabortion #equality #betibachao #womenrights #childrights #womaniya #raiseyourvoice #fightforyou #femaleinfanticide #womensupportwomen #girlpower #womenpower #addiction #discrimination #infanticide #sexualassault #childabuse #crime #myvoice #voiveofmillion #poetry #poem #writers #mirakians #mirakee #mirakeewriters #mirakeeworld

    Read More

    कन्या भूण हत्या..

    एक बेटी अपनी मां के कोख से अपनी मां को कहती है-
    "क्या डर शब्द से मेरी मुलाकात करवा रही हो..
    जिंदगी की शुरुआत डरने से करवा रही हो..?
    या कहीं..तुम जीने का हक मुझसे छीन रही हो..
    एक लड़की हूं..इसकी सजा तुम दे रही हो..?
    मां तुम खुद एक बेटी हो..एक बेटी की जान क्या तुम ले पाओगी..?
    पर डर शब्द से मेरी पहचान तुमने करवा दी..
    दुनिया को देखने की मेरी इच्छा अब तुमने मरवा दी..।।
    इस दुनिया में मेरा अस्तित्व होगा या नहीं..या बस एक शरीर कहलाऊंगी..।
    'तुझे तेरी मां के कोख में ही मार देना चाहिए था'- बार-बार यह सुनवाई जाऊंगी..।।
    मां तुम खुद एक बेटी हो..एक बेटी की जान क्या तुम ले पाओगी..?
    सबसे अनजान..पर तेरी जान..
    अब मरने के लिए सक्रिय है..।
    क्योंकि अब रोशनी से ज्यादा मुझे अंधकार प्रिय है..।।"

    समाज की आंख पर तो पर्दा है..।
    पर एक मां तो देख सकती है कि
    एक बेटी का उसकी कोख से बाहर आना एक स्पर्धा है..।।
    निर्दयता को ये समाज दे देता है मात..।
    एक बेटी के जन्म से पहले ही करवा देता है
    असुरक्षित शब्द से उसकी मुलाकात..।।

  • survy_ 45w

    The first time you put your hand down my skirt
    You told me how it was just a game
    The night after you came into my room
    And said
    "Just play with the thing"

    It's been 10 years ever since
    But still, I see you in every sleep.
    How do I wash myself from this sin
    If all I do is see you in every family scene.

    Daddy talks about how much of a good man you are
    And mummy even calls you "my son"
    Every step you take has been declared holy
    So much so I think that it was all my fault.

  • karenallen284 48w

    It's hard to forgive someone who stole what I would describe as my pure innocence.

    22 years later, the thoughts of being touched and used over and over again, shoots daggers through my heart.

    The questions that replay over and over in my head are - Why did I not keep away? Why couldn't I stop it? Why did I keep going back?

    Then I wonder, after all these years, am I struggling to forgive the monster for doing those things or am I really struggling to forgive myself.


  • karenallen284 51w

    I can never let you know that I will be forever disappointed in you. You didn't do anything to him. You didn't even question him about his actions. Nor did you comfort me when I told you about all the things he kept doing to me, over and over again.

    I don't know what hurts more.... His actions or the lack of yours. I wish you stood up for me when I was struggling to stand on my own two feet. I wish you didn't silence my small voice.

    It has been storming inside my head for the last 22 years and I still find myself struggling to hold an umbrella up to protect me.

  • eram_shaikh 52w

    Six as I was

    I let the tears roll down
    My chubby cheeks wet,
    The pain getting unbearable
    As he grunts;
    But keeps pushing in me
    Momma!! Dada!! I wanted to scream,
    But gagged as I am
    Muffled are my screams,
    Bound are my hands
    As he pound into me,
    Slapping my skin
    For he could reach his end.

    But how am I gonna walk?
    When this torture is finished.
    What do I tell others?
    How do I smile and how do I hide my scars?
    How do I face everyone?
    When he's roaming my streets.

    Ohh! How I suffer.
    Silently in my room,
    Neglected and dislocated from even my own soul
    Six is what I was,
    When I used to call him my uncle
    This is what love was for families, he had said
    But I didn't feel any.
    Was this right?
    Was that my fault?
    Oh! please tell me
    This pain is going to end
    Or the torture;
    have i to end it myself?

    Six as I was.

    - Eram Shaikh

  • the_frozen_heart_frost 60w


    Skinny legs, shrunken tummy,
    and a mouth pleading for dimes.
    What a sight that catches the plight of childhood,
    Which otherwise might blossom in twilight.

    Sense in the shame of the fame that we all claim,
    Have we really grown?
    Hypocrisy to the brim turning a blind eye,
    to the sham of our own selfish reality.

    Political clamour pains,
    Yet governance aids in resurrection of gains.
    Clip the wings, cut the roots
    of social malice blooding child abuse.
    Make these streams childless, rag picking childless,
    Beedi making childless, farm labour childless.

    Dethrone and denounce beggary and child labour.
    and all vices that fits abuse and trigger your Atmabhiman
    and shell out your positive response
    to this inhumane heartless blot of mankind.

  • s_oha_m 62w


    Look at my body, I have scars
    Bruises of my past, give me agony lash

    One two three, deep cuts inside me
    Memories of them fades, still conjuring them anyways

    Four five six, were close to me someway
    Still seeing them, is my punishment anyway

    Shh.. Don't say! People will judge you someway
    Hide, Conceal & don't feel, that's something to be deal everyday.

  • poetsg00 67w

    It took a lot of courage to take this all out. If you can't support, then please don't make fun of this.


    Read More

    My story!!

    Memory Lane, for me,
    is nothing more than a graveyard
    routinely marked
    with headstones for all the days
    my innocence
    was murdered on.
    I'll tell you,
    that it was like an,
    unauthorized prescription
    of strychnine,
    asphyxiating me,
    and making my eyes,
    look like a prison camp.
    The people who are
    supposed to protect us,
    are a holocaust in making.
    as My "NO" became
    synonymous with,
    I struggled to hide my scars
    during the day,
    But, couldn't masquerade them
    on nights,
    when my breaths turned into echoes,
    as my own shadow itself
    started suffocating me.
    I've heard them preach,
    about how our souls,
    never cease existing even after we die,
    But, all I can focus on is,
    What about the body
    that has harboured
    so much shame inside
    turning it into a living graveyard,
    And, Suffocating that soul alive.
    It's been years.
    But, my past hangups still projects
    on my present dispositions,
    making me smell,
    like a scarified tissue.
    and, Under the layers of clothes,
    my skin reveals
    the phantom handprints.
    Today, I know,
    I'm more than a survivor.
    I wear the face of a wolf at night,
    And the moon howls.
    But, That pain never lessens,
    not even a bit,
    It just deepens,
    Like a bottomless pit.


  • cnviktor 67w

    Another broke piece

    Five comments and I would drop this by 8pm.