1449 posts
  • usmanshaikh47 4d

    Non Compos Mentis

    She smiled for no reason
    Which was profoundly true ,
    When enquired why
    She said " Morning dew " ,
    Hundreds of expressions
    With no explicit clue ,
    Few words uttered by her
    Were like burning wood what once grew ,
    When asked about her well-being
    She replied saying" I'm fine , thank you " ,
    Her mind speaks its own language
    And plays riddle of which she have solved few ,
    Dreams which holds profound meaning
    She has seen it all perhaps even a bird which flew ,
    She talks to the shadows of the past
    The darkness apon her only grew ,
    Candy's replaced by the Valiums
    She loves the sound of music too ,
    Pitiful eyes staring at her on a roadway
    She walks in one of the triumph's shoe ,
    In fact a mountain turned into ashes
    She says madness is not what I'm going through .
    This is all I could say in my humble view .

  • electric_infamy 1w

    An Ending of a Beginning

    Can you taste that?
    A veritable tang on the evening breeze
    that whispers of alien botanicals
    (Botanicals? Really?)
    highlighting an impending arrival
    with sinister intentions
    that promise an ending of a beginning
    (Of the middle of this paragraph)
    borne within a melody of mania
    fresh on golden tongues
    and stolen lungs
    (Stop me if you've heard this one)
    that think to drive us into lunacy
    as if we're not already well versed
    on the fringes of madness here
    (Speak for yourselves, I'm really quite insane)


  • jebinjohnyalexander 2w


    I prefer to live my life in a day rather than a day in my life!


  • jebinjohnyalexander 2w

    #A Random Wish

    I wish I have a bizarre day where everything just goes fine!


  • nocturnal_enigma 3w

    * 602nd post; 76 posts till 678th (Target)

    * 29.8.2021; 4.19 A.M

    #Schizophrenia #Seizure #Insane #Madness #Mania
    #Scissors #enemies #egomania #worsen #hatred

    SZR = SchiZophRenia, SeiZuRe
    & ScisZors (sound like this)

    Read More

    SZR ~

    I have...schi-zoph-renia;
    I had few sudden seizures.

    I am very insane; Madness; Mania.
    Once, I sliced my thumb with scissors.

    I do still have insomnia.
    It’s worse than seizures.

    If I have enemies; Their egomania...
    will worsen; Hatred cut like scissors.

    © Nuruliffa Emirah
    @ nocturnal_enigma

  • oneofakind8 3w


    Her heart was turbulent.
    Everything seemed upside down.
    Images started to fade infront of eyes.
    Mind never played a note
    Her words, sharp
    Her look, deep like an ocean
    Nobody knows nobody talked about
    An apparent mess and a lonely SOUL.

  • pallavi4 3w


    Some call it a kind of mental sickness
    When you aren’t like others around you
    When your thoughts and actions do not reflect
    What others perceive to be true
    When your actions are simply deemed weird
    And you’re treated differently in the lieu
    Of being the bearer of divergence
    Posing a threat to the world view
    When you’re unable to understand
    How into a weed instead of a flower you grew
    And a collection of stones begins to form around
    Due to them being thrown constantly at you
    Because the wiring inside of your head simply
    Isn’t like anyone you ever knew
    Sometimes even you are convinced that
    You are a part of the “mad” few

    In a perfect world, without stigma
    Where a spark of uniqueness is celebrated
    Being a little crazy is a good thing and
    Being normal is considered over rated
    When a society chooses to embrace all its
    People and they live their lives integrated
    Then the few who are different feel
    Accepted and not deliberately segregated
    The ability to be receptive towards others
    Is often overlooked and underestimated
    With understanding and embracing our differences
    We learn to not create the differentiated
    Folk with a creative bend who seem “mad”
    Who are with a different wiring created
    Are given a platform to be themselves and bring a
    Unique take on things to become the appreciated


    23rd of August, 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    Thank you for EC @miraquill !

    #wod #perspective #madnessc #madness #writersbay @writersbay @writersnetwork #writerstolli #miraquill #MirakeeWorld #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill #pallavi_editors_choice

    Read More


  • eveningpoetressalaktaka 3w

    The real madness starts
    when I lost myself in your
    melodious voice.
    The addiction,the madness starts pouring
    inside my soul
    when You hold me in your arms.
    The madness creates nostalgia
    when your love make me melt
    like almond dipped in honey.
    Madness beautifully design us,
    When we both lost in eachother.


  • akshay_vasu 4w

    He began hammering the ground with all his might until the sky opened up, raining heavily on him. He looked at the sky, heard that thunder, and saw that lightning. He laughed maniacally before raising that hammer again.

    - Akshay Vasu

  • in_fragments 5w

    When nobody asked me what bravery was, because I have no friends and nobody cares... so I just asked and answered for myself.
    My stupid psychiatrist's name was Dr. Lucky, how ironic hahahahaha.
    P.S. Please ask for help if you need it. Not all psychiatrists will be this careless.
    It just takes time to find the right one.
    #pod #poem #madness #mentalhealth #mentalillness #ptsd #selfcare #therapy #trauma @miraquill @writersnetwork @writersbay

    Read More

    Hospitals Have Prison Cells.

    You asked me what true bravery was.
    It's remembering this, every side of it,
    stirring it around, culturing it
    like a germ in a petri dish-
    finding it, like a forgotten toy-
    letting it back in to your body and mind.
    Bravery is remembering this:

    The last hospital stay
    that went right through me;
    back when they moved me
    to the cell block beneath everything-
    the patient overflow basement.
    With a locker for my possessions,
    and an overworked staff with eyes
    like cheap razor blades to cut
    all contact from outside society;
    my new world, for the next 24 hours,
    was four off-white walls
    to further warp my sanity,
    and a heavy brown door
    they would not let me close-
    but there was nothing inside anyway,
    just cement bricks,
    one white and painful slab of pillow,
    a flimsy metal bed on wheels
    that twisted my bones out of my skin.

    Waiting for the therapists
    and doctors to assess me-
    for the first 5 hours, there is hope
    I could go home.
    Hour 6 comes with tears, hot tears,
    the tears that flow because you know
    you're trapped.
    My psychiatrist, a tyrant,
    forced an intake on me,
    seeing nothing but scars and not caring
    for the heart. I was a liability, and so
    she threw me away.
    Is survivorship bias
    what made her so Lucky?

    I was the crazed patient
    who didn't make it,
    the one I had seen in others before,
    the screaming one
    they couldn't let leave,
    the one who caused a ruckus
    for everyone else. We were never crazy.
    We were caged in like animals,
    expecting the trauma not to come.

    After hour 7, quiet crying turns
    to bargaining. I beg the nurses
    to let me out, but they-
    at the mercy of the psychiatrist
    I was unlucky enough to find-
    had no authority to open the door.
    They look at me
    with something like sympathy-
    but this happens all the time,
    the begging, the crying, the screaming-
    and they're waiting hungrily
    to get out of this place, just like us.
    They persist as I weep to them,
    the involuntary wailing, the attack
    of chemical tremors erupting
    within my terrified veins- and still,
    they could only do
    nothing to help.

    Hour 8, mom visits after work.
    Tries to get me out, sits with me
    while I sob, makes negotiations
    with the nurses to no avail.
    I was under full control
    of a monster with a medical license,
    and I was not getting out
    until they took me in. Mom,
    she tried her best, but she couldn't
    stay all night, and soon I was alone,
    ensnared in concrete again.

    Hour 12, I tried to sleep.
    I started losing track of the minutes.
    I stared at the walls, it felt like
    all night, with no more crying,
    no more space in my brain
    to process tears, or trauma, or torment.
    I was made of TV static now-
    a dissociated, scheming zombie,
    thinking of ways
    to manipulate my way out
    before I had even gotten in.

    I hardly remember
    the rest of the madness now,
    as if someone else
    had gone through it instead;
    gray matter cloaked in amnesia
    to preserve my body and mind
    from the anguish, protecting me fully
    from someplace inside.

    A bed was finally made for me-
    upstairs, the mental health ward
    was ready to take me in-
    but those 24 hours before assured
    that I would never ask for help again...

    The system is rotten to its core,
    the hospitals have prison cells-
    but bravery is remembering
    all the ways it split your soul, and still
    living for recovery, in spite of it all.

  • doom_writer 5w

    Life Madness

    “Here's to the crazy ones. 

    The misfits. 

    The rebels. 

    The troublemakers. 

    The round pegs in the square holes. 

    The ones who see things differently. 

    They're not fond of rules.

    And they have no respect for the status quo. 

    You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them.

     About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. 

    They push the human race forward.

     And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.

     Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”


  • pinkfloyduwu 6w

    Yes i am sick

    Yes! I am sick

    To wake every day and find all days same—

    And Habits whom I change every day.

    Yes! I am sick

    To not know what I am —and what I want,

    To know what I am — and what I cannot.

    Yes! I am sick

    An empty vessel of stifling sentiments,

    Words are strangers for my lips—

    From pages, they filled their objective.

    Yes! I am sick

    To become isolate, alienate, obscene—

    By the peoples know and unknown,

    And When I love it always too much—

    for me, imperceptible, nondescript, comical and loathsome they perceive it,

    What then left for me then to choose abhor?

    But alas! Life could have been heaven even in the den of the devil; if I know to despise truly,

    And faith, I have, no eternal could count it: even Abraham would leap in hankering if he saw it,

    But faith at one extent will become madness— if it surpasses the noetic realm,

    But there will be no faith without the nonsense.

    Yes, I am sick.

    I've said enough; so whoever heard me silently, mockingly, or paid no heed —

    And supposed me a lunatic, whimsical, sorry creature,

    I one more time will atlas the world on my shoulders: and embrace you all as one —

    You scoundrels, evils, uncharitable, cynical, sarcastic, lovers, haters, friends, foes, innocent, shy, beautiful, ugly, drunkard, rich, poor, for every vices and virtue—

    Embrace me as one origin, and take me now onto the cross or pyre of your liking,

    Though I love you all more than I could say and, I am growing bored and sick of you all.

  • sweedle 9w

    Your truth killed me before you even finished speaking, I felt a funeral in my brain and the sad songs wouldn't stop playing. I had it all before you opened your mouth and now I'm mumbling to myself in the shadow of utter silence.

    © Sweedle

  • thebhavnasaxena 9w


    Rain rages outside my window
    And the breeze caresses my flesh
    As I lay bare, every fibre of my being
    Exposed to the elements, I feel it
    Humming a slow rhythm somewhere
    Deep inside, my eyes glaze over, as
    An enigma takes hold of me, I have
    Had more than my fill of love, look,
    It drips down my chin, my chest bears
    A stain so glorious where my heart has
    Spilled over, like a chalice too full, for, what
    Other use is a chalice, if not to overflow
    With the rarest of the nectars that can be
    Concocted in any realm earthly or divine?

    Oh, true love, it whispers to me, and I am
    Its slave for eons to come, it commands
    Me, so I write, not thinking for a moment,
    I write as if my fingers have a will of their
    Own, I write, a woman possessed, and
    Glad to be haunted again and again,
    I write till my fingers bleed, because
    Love had whispered to me, when cast
    In my blood, it becomes magic, and
    When mingled with my blood it soaks
    Through the paper, it becomes eternal
    All over again.

  • priiiyaa_pd 10w

    Some never cares our emotions!!
    All they want is..
    They use us until all their needs get satisfied and throws us away...

  • 3_am__ 10w


    I'm gonna tell you a little bit of truth;
    The person who wrote this ,
    Lost his mind in the poetics.
    Im not a singer or a song writer,
    I am simply a poet who knows this.

    Existential crisis breeds wings of victory.
    Those dont obtain it never make it in history.
    I'm not a singer or a song writer,
    I am simply a poet who knows this.

    Ask yourself the questions,
    That you dont wanna ask,
    But already Know the answer to.
    I am not a poet or an artist,
    I am simply a man who knows a thing or two

    Existing in the infinite,
    You shouldn't even exist
    What's a dot on a never ending plane?
    Go above it and you're gonna creat depth.
    I am not a poet or an artist
    I am simply a man who knows this.


  • kadyan_naveen 11w

    Her Eyes

    I knew you are
    the one,
    When your eyes
    did to me
    What whiskey

  • akshay_vasu 12w

    When the thin line between love and hatred faded completely, madness sprang back to life inside the numb hearts.

    - Akshay Vasu 

  • kadyan_naveen 54w

    That One Girl

    I was madly attracted to only one girl during school days..
    Some of the things I adored about her are..
    She had one of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen. Beautiful eyes, Splendid hairstyle and the way she smiles.

    On Saturdays, when she came in white uniform. She really looked like an angel.

    Her soft voice and her choice of words. During those days, we didn't talked much in the class but there is bond of friendship between us. Whenever she talked to me (regarding some information or work) it kept me in high for the next three to four days.

    Best of all she taught me the beauty in waiting. I used to madly wait, hoping someday she would look at me or talk to me.

  • sara_adnan 168w

    He had fire inside him. The kind that ignites the madness in her.