Most of us are dead at 30, but burried in our 80's. This life of ours is such a beautiful opportunity to explore ourselves and exhibit the best version to the world. Let's not waste it by wasting time.
I am compiling a book about and have an opportunity for you. Kindly DM me to my Instagram account : @heart_scribes. Hoping for a positive response. Please don't mind if I have already contacted you.
So easily declared her as the lunatic
As a psychopath 'cause she was numb
Lost the feeling of her own skin
Numbed all the prickles that bloomed
And a heart of stone she carried
With unfulfilled adventures frozen
No more is she wild, no more is she alive
They took it all, left her senseless
A fire extinguished, left in smoke and ashes
Skies always dark, nothing but endless black
Days of gloom, just Chills spreading her spine
Eyes staring far ahead, not a home in sight
No more counting stars,
No more screams from mountains
No more quests for the impossible
Drowning in mislaid thoughts
No pain, no tears, nothing
Just a soul wandering the lands
Sailing on the waves
Gliding through the air
She's lost, she's nowhere
All it took, to be named a maniac.
Disclaimer: I am not at all supporting suicidal thoughts through this post. I just wanted to portray what the person might feel when he takes such an extreme step; because I have heard many times that if a person is mentally weak, then only he is provoked to end his life, which is not true in many cases. Many times, it's US who weaken that poor soul and push him into another world of trauma, and he is never able to return back.
Be happy and share any difficulties that you have with your loved ones, speak up,and do remember you don't live for others but for yourself.
Love you all❤️ ___________________________________________________
Aquilegia, the only last one, Of my heart, has withered, Perchance, it couldn't, Save it's petals from closing, Just like me, drowning- In a world of despondency,
I do wonder, it's a mystery, For the world is a boon, And a bane for me, all at once, I screamed, I screeched, Deaf— The world was to me, Not even the wind would sing, Nor the leaves would sussrate, Be silent! It's just a lurgy! — All I could hear around me,
A maniac— They would say; Challenged with abnormalities, As if, I was an open book, But they couldn't, just couldn't, Read my mind and my face, If they would have! I wish, peeped into me, my heart, Instead of those closed doors, Of my everclosed house,
It was enough, I gave up, Death kissed my frail cheeks, I felt warm; no biting winter; Shall ever cape over me, For in Love and War, 'tis fair, I loved my body, and it Didn't want any more anguish, It was the final day, I won, And yet — I was defeated, In the eyes of the world...
#maniac **********Rantings of the inner child who more often than not is deemed as a maniac in a highly grown world***********
Call me naive , but I do believe that joy tasted a little sweeter when I was a child. Call me not so well trained by society , but I do believe that I knew how to fall without shame when I hadn't learnt about the survival of the fittest yet Call me unfit , but I do believe that I knew how to hold the palm of my life with a tighter grip of trust when I hadn't learnt the physics of human fallacies yet. Call me a hypocrite , but I do believe that I knew how to cry for the invisible wounds of my self more loudly as though I accounted for my pain believing myself worthy enough to be unhurt when I hadn't comprehended the number of wars fought vainly on an every day basis yet. Call me a child , but I do believe that the sky seemed more magical when I hadn't yet learned that they were composed of conspiracies aimed at caging us like the birds flying across it yet. Call me a perpetrator of ignorance , but I do believe that I knew how to love without any kind of heavy moral obligations when I hadn't learned that I needed codes to be run by in my seperate heart console before trusting another being who had the same heart as me yet.
Call me a dreamer , but I do believe that we are all a dream within a dream and I believe that the dream was way more colourful and vivacious and passionate and throbbing with delight when the dreamer of our dream was a little less of an adult and More of a child who craved to touch the essence of creation with curiosity; not duplicating or exploiting or un-clothing it with theories; instead frolicking in it with naive untrained hearts.
For I happen to be a maniac who Wishes we don't lose our imaginations To the syntax of The world.Ever.
Lest the joy that tasted like candy when we were a child and now tastes bittersweet like love starts Tasting like the sand which fills our moments when we let it trickle through our fingers without Actually allowing ourselves to feel it any longer.