111 posts
  • curiositylive 10w


    Yes I am a misfit,
    I want to change the world, change the way you think,
    Change the way you live!

    Yes I'm a misfit.

    I'm not your cup of tea, I'm your cup of craziness,
    I'm your cup of happiness that you never had!
    I can make you crazy ! I can make you mad!
    But I'm not normal, like he and she.

    I prefer wisdom over knowledge,
    But I doubt I have both,
    I take the road not taken,
    Cause that's the surprise I like!
    Hot and cold...

    Yes I'm a misfit and I want it all!

  • the_healer_idealist 19w

    I wasn't myself,
    Yet no one realized.
    I was hurting inside
    Nothing but pain in my eyes,
    That only those who looked deep enough,
    And cared enough could see.
    No one realized I was struggling...
    To even be me.
    I didn't want to be myself.
    I could no longer accept her,
    Because no one wanted her...
    Me...who I truly am.
    No one wanted the challenge of handling the true me.
    So I continued to struggle behind closed doors.


  • pj_animation 40w


    I am warm blooded but the world made cold my heart
    I guess it's the little broken pieces that made the hurt
    And from the scars deeper more went the cuts
    And without understanding I am now labelled a perfect cunt
    So I roll it up and inhale the nature from a single plant

  • eccentricchick 51w

    Shit Show Shan

    Don't call me crazy when you're not so put together yourself.
    I know I'm different from most.
    But I think I'm pretty cool myself.
    I cuss a lot and I talk shit...
    Maybe a lil more than others.
    I am sorry if I'm just too much for your safe little bubble.
    Just because I express myself where others will hide.
    I am not ashamed to being a strong woman who is a little weak on the inside.
    So do not tell me to take it down a notch.
    Don't you try and snuff out my flame.
    I was not made to be basic.
    I'm Shit Show Shan. Not plain Jane.

  • seaofchaos 52w

    There are days
    That I feel like a misfit in this too good to be true world.


  • damped 53w

    among a bunch of poems, i'm a half-prose
    among a bunch of prose, i'm a half-poem.

  • lightsofaksh 60w

    You may be a misfit,
    In the society's eyes,
    But that's okay,
    Be real to yourself.

    Read More


  • pallavi4 62w


    Have you ever wondered whether it was your fate or your destiny that your life has turned out a certain way? I certainly do. I think about it all the time. I haven’t had it easy...... one would say I have all the material comforts one can possibly think of and so what would give me the right to crib about having borne strife. It is just that I’ve always been different, never one of those who could meld in a crowd.
    People don’t like different- people feel threatened by anyone who refuses to conform and be one of them. That very fact has been the basis of my being lonely in life. Not that I mind my own company, I don’t. But sometimes it feels alone and depressing to not be able to be a part of a whole. Why couldn’t I be like others, I often wonder.
    Loneliness leads one towards dark thoughts and depression. That is not a nice, comfortable place to be in. People often think leaving someone alone with their thoughts is the best solution for people who are different. It is not. Every soul looks towards acceptance - towards bonds and familiarity. This blank space that should have been filled with people gets occupied by foul thoughts that only drive people further away .
    When you start doubting everything around you, your own mind becomes your biggest enemy. How does one deal with that then? It’s a tough fight- a fight which has to be fought all alone and for a long time before the stormy seas settle into gentle waves.
    Is it selfish that sometimes I feel I should have been awarded laurels for having had a hard life? I think it is and this makes it difficult to accept oneself completely. It is an uncomfortable thought process - one that is both pompous and weird. There are so many people in the world who do not have half of what I do and are fighting much graver wars than I am. But there will, I think always be a part of me who expects some sort of acknowledgement for not having had it easy.
    I am that leaf on a tree who decided to turn purple instead of the normal green like all the others around me were. They look at me like I’m some sort of disease - a pariah. Am I, really? Maybe I am, maybe that is the basis of my existence. Maybe this is why I have been given both the courage and will to fight against all odds. Maybe being this “pariah” is who I am and probably will always be. I’m still learning to accept all parts of me. I hope that one day I am able to accept this facet too.
    And maybe that day I won’t spend my time wondering whether it was destiny or fate as to why life has turned out that way it has.


    26th of September, 2020

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner- Golden Honey bee and laurel wreath by Deborah League

    #laurelc #laurel #different #misfit #loneliness #being_different #life @writersnetwork #writerstolli #writersnetwork #mirakee #mirakeeworld #readwriteunite #thepoetrycommunity #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @mirakee #writersbay

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    Please read caption

  • raeema 64w

    People surrounded her,
    enjoying the moment,
    Dancing at the music beats,
    Singing happily,
    Together and loud,
    Gigling and commenting,
    Creating a vibe.

    She found herself,
    A misfit in the group,
    Not getting along,
    Her body never danced,
    she never felt so,
    Her lips didnt move,
    not her sort of happiness,
    She was just happy,
    Watchin all of these,
    From far .

  • sksfantasy_girl 64w

    She became misfit for social version
    In reality she was waiting for him on her death bed in living phase.

  • thegreatpotato_ 64w

    "You are not a misfit.
    You're just trying to fit into the wrong puzzle."

  • charvy 64w

    I still remember that day When you wanted to talk with that stupid boy. I stopped you but you went to far for him. You left me alone even when you knew that I was broken.
    I cried for 3 hours and you were the reason. I always told he was a playboy. But my opinions never mattered for you.
    #misfit @writersnetwork @writersbay @mirakee

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    I always felt alone in your company
    You said we will be always friends but
    now the stories are going to different ends
    You never held my hand when I was stressed
    But I always cleared the things you messed
    Deep inside I felt like a misfit
    And now you say what you did

  • pallavi4 64w


    The conversation runs deep and ears strain to hear every word. Patiently each one awaits their turn to speak and be heard. Me ... I’m far away, lost in my own thoughts unable to concentrate on what the others have to say.
    A feeling of distress, disappointment and distraction takes over me the minute they begin to talk. I find my mind drifting instead of holding steady.
    An unbearable suffocation overpowers me and makes me feel horribly out of place, with these people who look like strangers to me. I feel a disconnection, a distracted disconnection to the conversation and these strangers posing as my friends.
    I’m not like them you see. I’m a misfit - a reminder of everything that is different in the world, a stranger, a pretender. I’m a misfit - a troublemaker, a rogue, an oddball . I am a misfit and I hope I never change .

    That piece of puzzle
    That seems to just not fit in
    Is termed a misfit


    17th of September, 2020

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    Rewritten and reposted from 27th of February, 2020

    #misfitc #misfit #writersbay @writersbay @writersnetwork #writerstolli #writersnetwork #mirakee #mirakeeworld #readwriteunite #thepoetrycommunity #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @mirakee

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    Please read caption

  • born_to_write_ 64w

    Can anybody tell me why do i feel so.....my soul seems so seperated from my body.....😓
    @mirakeeworld @mirakee @writersbay #pod#quote #misfit
    @elusive_me @raziqu

    #soul #gap #bod #alone #quotes #poet #broken #english #incomplete #existence

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    My existence doesn't feel as a whole.
    Cause I sense a gap between my body and soul.

    ©a stenographer soul

  • bhawna__ 68w

    #paintings #story #narration #songc #soulmates #misfit #feelings #sky #tears
    @writersnetwork #pod @mirakee #writersbay


    Watching something with sheer wonder;
    turned into taboo when I saw him gracefully waltz across the room like satin running down my skin
    to pass on the discernible smudges
    in the disguise of
    its sloppy appearances ..,,,

    whilst my optic devices always keen
    to watch the visiblity of the darkness
    just out of the visible prudence of lightning,

    and in the night of having the flavor of petrichor
    that noticed every detail of our conversation
    within the walls,,,

    the last fragrance we had before our departure;

    and we were stunned with the voices that we have whispered to each other's heart,,,

    because of the fears we had in our brains..

    ordering us to leave the love of existence
    with the wonders
    of the meaningless meanings
    to give the words
    to our
    coruscating eyes;

    those eyes were defining their sparkles
    to read the agony of our tears ...

    when they were looking into each other's
    and talking to the drops of their kindered spirit


    their painful eyes were very circumspect
    in their statements
    to the discourse
    of the uneven audacity,,,

    and I know
    the forwardness
    of the unsaid words
    will destroy my portrait
    to convey the restrictions
    of the surroundings to be in his abode
    and to inhale the same air that he is breathing
    that is having the life of the beautiful answers
    that delineate the beauty of my existence,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

    It was all my fantasies..
    It was all my reality..

    That I'm no more related to the reality..

    To the creatures that I can touch..
    Was just a faded reality to me to remain untouched..

    And I was just procastinating the moments
    that were without him..,,,,,,,,,,,,

    But his words were reality to my unreal imaginations...,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

    I didn't hear those words
    with the noise of the air..

    I felt those words with the inks on the paper..

    That was the calmness of his presence ..
    That turned into the absence in the disguise of reality..,,,,,,,,,,

    It, was all, used to turn into the reality
    as I open my eyes
    in those

    And I woke up from the dream..

    A harsh noise of reality broke my peace..

    And then I started imagining with the open eyes ..

    Because it was the helplessness of my eyes..

    They were not able to sleep anymore..
    And I was addicted to the unreal shore..

    I was living them, with me..

    I was ignoring
    the harsh

    When I drowned into the another world ..
    With the nothingness,
    but the showers
    of all the colours
    of the sky..

    As I saw the wings,
    and their sheer rawness
    to make
    the disagreements
    with the equanimity
    of curses
    and blessings

    His swords of disguised words
    have painted a new portrait
    of my battles
    with the
    loud voices
    that were silent
    to the numbness
    of my witless

    because that was the moment
    when I just saw the blood all around ,,,

    and felt the flames of those
    exorbitant voices in my head,,,

    He was not around me,,,
    He was not breathing the air
    that was touching my skin,,,

    He was not smiling with the peace
    that we had been walking in
    throughout the dreams
    that were not in the real sobbings..,,,

    He was not even crying,,,

    He was numb,,,

    Or the numbness of his feelings
    was so crumbled
    that he was living
    a meaningless life,,,

    Yes, this was me,,,
    The girl of hopelessness,,,

    At the time of my non-existence,,,
    That went on furthur,,,

    Just to explore those dreamy abstractions..
    And the answers were uneven,,,

    afterall it was my audacity,,,

    It was my existence,,,

    It was my tormented screams,,,

    And I couldn't say a next calling to our lives,,,

    What if it was just a truth without the crimes,,,
    What if it was just a story without pain,,,
    What if it was just a tear of those eyes,,,

    But it was all more than just tears,,,

    It was the music with some instrumental and wordless oceans,,,

    It was the sky full of clouds and where the moon was playing the game of hide 'n' seek..,,,

    It was the epitome of the oblivious glances
    with the denials of my responsibilities,,,

    towards the edgy conversations,,,

    And his presence within the walls was such a grievious blow to her dismay ,,,

    How can be the stories of birth can have a portrait,,
    How can that portrait not have the colours and faded ashes of no more lives..,,,

    and then the fearless air of her smile
    was turning into the vibes
    of the screaming answers
    of those abstractions
    correlating to the phrases,,

    ..... when nobody asked me the real intrications of the lines,,,
    That I was decorating to write my portrait ..

    with him breaking all the taboos of the ornaments..


    that they have created between the even boundaries and odd scratches of our bloods and skin...

    that was the ego of their senseless iron bars..

    and my fashion of talking was
    melting them to the directions
    of the heaven..,,,

    where we were breathing peacefully..
    but with baffling steps..,,,

    with the music
    throughout the fabrications
    of the protected beauty,,,

    and his arms
    covering me
    in his abode
    of silence
    above the
    of hell
    and heaven
    the colours
    to paint
    a new
    the abyss
    of the open skies
    to the
    of narration..,,,

    "And we narrate the stories....."



    Read More


    Watching something with sheer wonder; turned into taboo when I saw him gracefully waltz across the room like satin running down my skin to pass on the discernible smudges in the disguise of its sloppy appearances ..
    ..... when nobody asked me the real intrications of the lines I was decorating to write my portrait with him breaking all the taboos..
    to paint a new story to the another realm of narration..

  • my_tiny_chapter 80w


    This writing is inspired by the song I heard earlier today : "Secret Love Songs" by Little Mix ft Jason Derulo.

    While thinking, "Are we all really allowed to give our love to anyone we want?"
    Since, forbidden love is really an issue, in all countries, religions, societies and families.
    Social or religious restrictions, outdated ideas, someone is already in a committed relationship, the age difference is inappropriate, and or for some other reason the relationship would be frowned upon or 'forbidden' It’s funny why these even exists???
    And many people's problems are made worse by the stigma and discrimination they experience - from society, families, friends and surroundings, since
    being part of a group still helps people feel safe and protected.

    So, Is it really destiny to blame???


    Misfit of Society

    I was back on a trip down memory lane,
    Where silence was a stranger,
    Where the valleys
    were uncharted by emptiness,
    We parted to single cells.
    We rose on buoyant tears,
    to breathe new atmospheres
    and yet we sink.
    some place
    Defying gravity
    A beautiful contradiction
    in our unstable reality.
    "I know, everything will be alright!"
    it's just another comforting white lie.
    Since, I believe that we both can see
    that there is no foreseeable we.
    I cannot help
    but continue on to wonder
    why such a beautiful experience 
    is so heavily shamed upon
    by society?
    The thing I want
    cannot be wanted in this world
    Because it is way too messed up
    [ perhaps even for me
    to dare to dream, at all. ]
    The night is full of stars
    we cannot grasp,
    though the world is ours,
    however isolation and fear 
    fills the space.
    Dearest, impossible love of mine.
    Even though
    We cannot photosynthesize in the sun,
    I shall love in darkness.
    Underneath the soil,
    where we are tangled together
    holding hands
    quietly nourishing each other,
    till we come
    at last to understand:
    "man’s spineless heart
    is alien to any land."
    And no matter the winds shove,
    However strong they might,
    they will only sway me to sleep,
    for I am firmly rooted,
    deep within you,
    Inspite of the fact that,
    I could never grow a flower.....
    Do you all think,
    I bury the darkness wrong?
    I have learned
    that I was made
    for more than just unraveling...

    Read More

    Misfit of Society

    I close my eyes
    hoping to stare into forever.
    But something whispers
    that I'm going to nowhere...

  • words_of_lasya 81w


    She chose letters over text,
    She carved for touch over calls,
    She wanted people over hashtag,
    She preferred faces over emojis,
    She looked for laughters over likes & comments,
    She enjoyed playing in mud over playstation,
    And, She always dreamt about Santa over Super heroes.

    In the world full of instant, she longed for eternity!


  • obsovert 81w

    Bullying !

    Well the very idea of bullying is quite deep-rooted in the annals of Indian history. Even the great Karna wasn't spared off this ordeal and the bitter irony is that instead of being frowned upon, bullying is something which has been traditionally accepted to be very basic and part of growing up. We have historically been so liberal about condoning bullying that one can literally feel it in the air. Well the binary basis of categorisation and distinction between the "bullying ones" and the "bullied ones" is quite steep and literally no can climb the chasm of disparity.

    The bullied ones have to battle the perpetual fear of being bullied and ridiculed right from the day they step in the school premises. Moreover, unlike the equations of amicable companionship and coarsened animosities which are susceptible to varying degrees and changes with due passage of time, bullying is not dynamic and the equation once formed remains unaltered for eternity. The "bullying ones" tend to bully always and "bullied ones" tend to remain bullied forever.

    My sincerest thanks to the advancement in communication technology which has facilitated mankind in general to take a giant leap and have brought us all together with the help of internet. So there ain't any shying away from the truth that irrespective of the fact that whether we extend our cordial participation or not but we are participants and part of plethora of WhatsApp groups dedicated to our respective class, batch, house, team, zone, school, department, batch, branch, office, school and there won't be any end to this.

    Sometimes these groups are voluntarily constituted and sometimes much to your chagrin you just simply allow yourself to be roped into those WhatsApp institutions sometimes owing up to peer pressure and sometimes fear of being left out. Now circling back to the inherent agenda of these WhatsApp groups which are excellently organized institutions often formed by the sucessful and influential alumnus of alma mater, who have certainly done better than their counterparts and with motivation to bring everyone under an universally unified and recognised umbrella.

    So when the immaculate sense of Noblesse oblige and belongingness brainstorms the heart of sentinels of unity, then they take the initiative and armed with dedicated passion and sense of unity in addition with pinch of inclusiveness, modicum of nostalgia alongwith not so apparent agenda of exercising the very idea of subjugation and domination to the optimum establish WhatsApp groups, which by and large are virtual cum digital bullying setups where the "bullying ones" indulge into verbal arm twisting of "bullied ones" in bid to maintain their dominant status quo in the garb of fun and reminiscing about the lost nostalgia.

    These WhatsApp groups often tend to ignore the prevalence of bullying and a lot of people act so cool about it. Bullying is practiced without any inhibitions and certain episodes which are harsh and difficult to make peace with are clandestinely brushed inside the rug of jocular nature of school bosom buddies and their birthright to mock and make fun.

    We Indians are so supportive about bullying that people can actually make a career out of bullying. We are super cool about ridiculing people and people who can perform cyber bullying can actually make fame and fortune out of videos mocking people for their choices and ironically become national heroes. We must understand that how blurry and hazy it may look, there is a thin line between humour and humiliation, sarcasm and subjugation, comedy and constrain.

    How indifferent we remain to the prevalence of bullying but it'll always remain an uncomfortable truth and very part of our existence. Bullying ones can actually never feel the pain and pang of humiliation which bullied ones go through. The bullied ones are made to believe that they are misfit and unfit for being the part of that group or organisation. The bullied ones are one who actually live the fear of being part and still be apart in flesh and bone. The permanent damage and pyschological repercussions that bullying casuses are actually beyond repair and impossible to overcome. It's indeed hard to resurrect oneself from millions of shattered shards of self esteem and confidence.

    One can never feel the real pain of being bullied untill and unless one steps into the shoes and walk a mile but sadly enough there are millions of pairs of feet but there aren't enough shoes to accommodate those feet.


  • obsovert 81w

    My take on "Paatal Lok"

    It's "strictly on need to know basis" that Amazon Prime has once again left the mark with it's newly floated series "Paatal Lok" and has further cemented it's position as prime online streaming platform particularly in terms of Indian content.

    Well, basically Pataal Lok is a gripping crime thriller with exceptionally strong language and occasional gory scenes in the greater schemes of human follies and concomitant polysemy of living and existence itself.

    Prima facie what begins as a foiled encounter attempt on the Yamuna Bridge with in station limits of the Outer Jamuna Paar Police Station turns out to be just the tip of iceberg and in turn leads the unsuspecting simpleton Inspector Hathi Ram Chaudhary right up to the doorstep of inferno beneath surface of the earth and further leading to the darker and murkier truths of the system itself.

    The protagonist of the series Inspector Hathi Ram Chaudhary is believed to be a nincompoop cop who had never been close to the real investigation and is out of nowhere entrusted or rather framed into investigating the grandest and the most high profile case of his life which is apparently made to appear like an open and shut case but actually it isn't and determined Inspector Hathi Ram Chaudhary who now has once a life time opportunity to take a break from his humdrum existence, decides to take the plunge to attempt his best shot and embarks upon a thrilling bone breaking rigmarole to the badlands of Uttar Pradesh in the temple town of Chitrakoot to unravel the unsaid and unknown flagitious past of the prime accused Hathoda Tyagi and in his bid to pursue the hidden truth of case, Inspector Hathi Ram Chaudhary is finally able to stumble upon the uneasy truth and is able to manage and arrange a high profile truce between the warring sides. He forays deep into the case of his life by challenging the preconceived prognosis of events and emerge alive out of this mess contrary to the expectations of everyone barring his confidante and colleague Ansari who himself is struggling hard to keep the minority stereotypes at bay and make it large in his life.

    This series has got an eclectic outlook and an almost perfect ensemble cast and characters which represents a wide array of people coming from totally different backgrounds and with incomparable aspirations like someone wants to have absolute creative hold over his channel, someone likes to be loved and raise children, someone holds the canines dear, someone wants medals and promotions, someone wants a sex change operation to marry the love of her life, someone who is love lorn wants his love to be reciprocated, someone wants to keep his unwavering loyalty intact, someone wants to overcome anxiety, someone wants to rise above and touch the sky, someone wants to be still human and be righteously humane, someone wants to blend in as he is tired being a misfit, someone wants to be a social climber, someone wants to remain at the helm of power and then there is this one named Inspector Hathi Ram Chaudhary who is like a tired and an exhausted pigeon with ever haunting gloom and despondency written large all over his face and yet a family man and thus susceptible to errors and wishes like he wants to see respect in eyes of his son who is visibly embarassed of his jumbo name and his profession as a cop, above all he has to battle interdepartmental rivalry and fear of being left out and trampled by his subordinates.

    Indeed Paatal Lok narrates an immersive and powerfully riveting tale enacted by it's richly layered characters who represents a wide social and geo political spectrum ranging from Dalit social mobility and skewed up binary gender notions, from caste based atrocities to the women being mercilessly raped in the patriarchal set up of society, from dreaded dacoity to political bonhomie leading to the alleys of power, from new wave nationalism to ages old rigid social subjugation and domination, from rural ruckus to ugly urban myths, from idea of peace to the ideologies of terrorism, from Delhi Belly of Hazrat Nizamuddin to the dubious Delhi of Patiala House Court, from parched Bundelkhand to prosperous Punjab and prevalent notions of pride and prestige therein.

    Most importantly and fundamentally Paatal Lok attempts an explanation to the very conjecture of the three different realms and the thin line between Swarg Lok, Bhoo Lok and the infamous Paatal Lok.


  • akshay_vasu 89w

    And those misfit pieces tried to fit into each other forcefully. That is how they ruined themselves irreversibly.

    - Akshay Vasu