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The clock hands past Twelve Leaving trails of the past , the heart refused to believe clenching my fist I sat there in the dark The rose petals which were once so vibrant is now lying dry and dead The letters which once sung the proclivity of slower tempo now intone Gloomy Sunday The white fabric which once smelled of herbs and honey is now decaying swinging down the ceiling rewinding reminiscence that has passed Eyes which mirrored nebula and classic antiquity now lying motionless as if time has ceased playing its dark game Anatomy constructed with the five elements are now burnt down into ashes, as the flame rose higher and higher leaving the epiphany of undone dreams and hope, crying with grief for, Justice is what prevails.
everything that i want to say bubbles up under the surface but once i try to gather them, they turn into an incoherent mess. someday it may all burst out from my chest, but who would bear its weight? so i gulp down the words, that keep growing bigger and bigger with each passing day and form a knot in my throat. day? i don't even know what day it is anymore i can't tell one from another yesterday, today, tomorrow – they all blur into one like an anchorless ship, time is an endless sea, where living feels more like treading water, wouldn't it be easier to just drown? i, who is nothing, could just drown into nothingness, but zero added to zero is still zero how would that make any difference?
The pieces of moonlight dotted along the canvas inside my mind, reflect the vast stretch of the forest that i paint. Amidst those pieces i seek to find my own obliterated pieces, trying to make peace with them.
as the dawn approaches – within its' lateral space, is where i find myself aimlessly running around in the wilderness, wherever my feet takes me – down every lane even the lurking shadows shy away from for there's no light here it's all bathed in ash from the burnt remains of my past.
a distant bird sings bringing the red morning closer and closer and i hide behind the trees in shade where i used to let others rest by trying too hard to be altruistic.
my heart now gleams silver, like confetti in broad day light, isn't it high time, to be a little self-altruistic? for this is all i have – this realm in my mind wandering aimlessly amidst my thoughts I can't name
all this while i only faught those non-identical emotions only to end up even more conflicted. it's high time that i choose to fly, albeit the heat being as scalding as ever, maybe i'll make peace with the sunlight too, as i did with the moonlight.
i have reached such a point in life where every night becomes a sleepless one.
is it because of my depression or anxiety that my sleep decided to give up on me? sleep that i neglected back then, now neglects me not just sleep, but everyone eventually gives up on me as i continue pushing them away.
but it is how it is how exactly is it, though? this is how i am how exactly am i, though?
wide awake i lie, changing positions every now and then– comfort and slumber are no where to be found. the only one i find is me, restlessly struggling in the shackles of my mind.
silence engulfs me only to make my senses even stronger — i can hear the gushing winds, the rustling of the leaves outside my window; i can hear the fan above me rotating without a stop; i can hear the ticking of time, as seconds turn into minutes, and minutes into hours.
i'm still wide awake when i realize that, everything around me still continues to move: time, the wind, the leaves; yet here i am unmoving, yet blinking; unchanging, yet changing; unworthy, yet breathing.
sorry if this wasn't that good. it's an old one, but hope you like it :)
These days, i submerge myself in my own melancholia the shackles that squeeze my ankles as they slowly drag me down into the murky black water. I flail my limbs frantically, as an attempt to keep my head above the surface, but there’s no anchor here. The salt water flares into my lungs it’s too hard to breathe. I'm slowly slipping away no one can see me here, drowning under water and neither can i because all i see is black all i hear is static but no issues, nothing is really an issue until it’s too late to do something about it. I am nothing but stretched skin across battered bones that barely hold me anymore my skin slowly sinking into my bones, as i shrink in my own body the gaping hole in my ribs more prominent than before prodding out of my chest I can even count the bones that rattle with every stinging breath but all that is left in these ribs is water occupying every crevice, algae festering in between. I’m aware of how dramatic this sounds, but how else would i describe the hole in my heart? all the words i knew already died in my throat this is all that’s left until this shall fade too.
humans are often compared to stars. but i never understood why. i always denied calling myself a star for i never shone brightly, i just existed.
now that i think about it, perhaps i am a star that's burning in order to survive – indulging in self destruction just to stay alive.
it's not that i live because i can't die, or perhaps it is, i don't know. i just know that i wouldn't mind if the ground cracks open – molten lava swallowing me whole. stars never asked to live this way, did they?
i'm just waking up in a body that's shrinking everyday– bones prodding out like thorns that i can count with my fingers bones that can barely hold me up– i don't even want them to hold me up anymore.
i'm nothing but skin stretched across bones, clusters of self-inflicted nebulae sprawled over it. science says that stars are born within nebulae then can i make a constellation out of them? a constellation that comprises of all my mistakes. it shouldn't be a mistake if i give up then, because boldly giving up is as courageous as not giving up.
i don’t remember any violent beginnings, but i do know that i’m constantly burning, burning, burning. i wouldn't mind causing a supernova but you see, no matter what i say, i'm still a human. my light constantly flickers but if that can be a source of a splendid view to someone else, if it can be a source of comfort to them, then i'll continue burning, burning, burning i’ll continue to combust until my words become muddied with smoke – till it's all gone.
wordsofpragyaWow!! Beautiful lines.Your words are magical.✨You can publish your writings in a book. I'm compiling an anthology named, "SHADES OF NIGHT". Dm me on Instagram: @wordsofpragya .....If you want to be a co-author in this book to rewrite your own stars. You'll get many special rewards.
When the city is draped in silence– in the dead of night, i plug in my earphones only to hear a deep, soulful baritone, a voice ranging from rumbling lows to breathy highs– soft, smooth, shiver inducing and velvety. A voice serenading me into a state of pure blissful lull, fully lidded eyes in reverie, bidding a goodbye to the daily exhaustion of a monotonous life. From my ears to my heart, cascading melodies bloom flowers down this path. I feel a gentle tug in my heartstrings, that strum themselves along the beats of this song– my heart beating in tandem. The euphonic violin and piano tunes blended together, melodies penned into heart wrenchingly solacing lyrics– brim up the spaces between my ribs and find a home within. Likewise, i call this home, i call this solace. At the end of the day, i wouldn't have it any other way.
[inspired by taehyung's voice and his music (＾∇＾)ﾉ♪]
Isn't it pathetic to not have something as common as a dream? Lost at sea, gazing at the stars longingly, hoping to find a haven of belongingness. However, the society always shunned the ones who dared to look up at the stars, being several light years away.
Stalled in yesterday i was stuck in between the unceasing ticking of the minute and hour hands; everyone else in a tomorrow– running behind numbers. (i didn't want to stay behind)
They said that it would all be fine once i go to university, hence i deluded myself into taking a degree (not for myself) it was always for them.
It didn't take me long to realize that university is a place where you only learn to run behind numbers, to slave away under the oppressive capitalistic expectations, chasing after a mirage of what they called– a future that is nothing but just another monochromatic product of capitalism.
I tried burrying this truth in the deepest pits of my graveyard mind, but this truth had never been a corpse as it resurfaced into the horizon. Turns out that i had never been good at funerals.
I was terrified of confronting the truth again, so skipping classes became my norm. i wasn't trying to be cool– just rebellious.
Exams and responsibilities loomed over my shoulders, like dark clouds. I didn't mind getting drenched in rain, it was just the storm of impending doom and failure that terrified me.
They say that I'm wasting time, but they don't know how I'm losing a track of time, as i constantly feel dissociated. They say that I'm sabotaging my life, jeopardising my future– but aren't i already a train wreck? might as well wreck myself even more until there's nothing left.
It feels like I've become a monster– a monster that locked itself in the closet and tried shrinking its body into nothingness. The society tried taming me but if you try putting a jester's hat on a monster it ceases to be scary but to itself, it's still a monster.