manic_empress

سيرينا ليمز Never let your emotions overpower your intelligence...

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  • manic_empress 49w

    Elusive shade,
    slips sandalwood into my water
    creeps along my spine,
    nods,
    head heavy,
    eyes drift
    eyelids flutter
    no. nevermore
    for the girl with the dreamselusive shade,
    slips sandalwood into my water
    creeps along my spine,
    nods,
    head heavy,
    eyes drift
    eyelids flutter
    no. nevermore
    for the girl with the dreams
    to the insomnia waves
    threatening my stronghold
    to the tides of caffeinated coffee
    clouding my head
    that crash against the walls
    and wear away my defenses
    sleep
    is the monster now.
    keep at bay the shadows it
    slips into my Saturday dinner
    to the insomnia waves
    threatening my stronghold
    to the tides of caffeinated coffee
    clouding my head
    that crash against the walls
    and wear away my defenses
    sleep
    is the monster now.
    keep at bay the shadows it
    slips into my Saturday dinner
    that,
    and the shadows
    pooling like absentee moonlight
    beneath my eyes
    I am a shade now
    another mooncaste shadow
    seeping beneath doorframes

    I love the quiet of nocturne life
    cityscape breaths easy
    in the early hours of the morning
    sun doesn't shine here
    she hides away her blushing face
    for brother Moon's cruel beauty
    cruel
    in its kindness
    how it threatens the threshold of my thoughts
    drags inspiration from the corners
    clawing, screaming
    how it wrings every last drop
    of midnight mutterings from under my breath
    and I write
    pour soul onto paper
    dance with destruction
    all the black ink letters
    portrayal of my head
    my heart
    dip a pen into the shadows beneath my eyes
    and use the resulting ink
    to scribble
    starlight musings on my palms
    swirl thoughts up my arms
    down my thighs
    beautiful work
    of written wonder
    oh the nighttime
    so cruel in its relinquished hold on my artistry
    and sleep knows no more
    shall never keep me from such ecstacy
    until the sun
    burns away my moonlight puddles
    shrieks color into translucent fingertips
    forces coalesced form upon my fading figure
    and I must again
    become
    devoid of sleep
    collecting moonlight
    in the eves of my eyes
    for the next night .

    © sereena_ writings

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    Sleepless Night

    ©manic_empress

  • manic_empress 51w

    വേദനയുടെ ആഴം അളക്കാൻ ചിലർ ജീവനോടെ പോലും ഇണ്ടായെന്നു വരില്ല. പക്ഷേ മനസ്സിലെ ഓർമ്മകളിലൂടെ നാം ഇന്നും ജീവിക്കുന്നു..........
    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    I know this face and its intentions
    How everyone perceives this person
    I will tell you the stories you expect to hear
    Will never let you come too near.

    Because I can wear a mask
    Like I am a predator hiding around
    I know how to move around you
    So that all you see is what I want you to.

    The facade was painted by others but I took their colors
    Their style completely different from who I truly am.
    Hidden in this masterpiece there are small cracks,
    Genuine graffiti that wants to see the light.

    But the expectations for this mask are too high
    The rules too rigid to bend, the risks uncertain
    And it's stuck to my face by the tears that
    Over the years dried in my cheeks.

    I have to be the best or don't do it at all
    Because everythings comes easy to me
    And if it doesn't it means its not what I seek
    So if I want to paint and the painting is shit
    Maybe at the end writing was my thing.

    Let me take out the other costumes I carry
    With me whenever I'm in public.
    Because this mask crumbles under stares
    So I need the one that craves the spotlight.

    I designed them all by hand,
    Taking the best traits of everyone I like.
    It's easy to write fiction when fiction is your whole life.

    Maybe that's why I like fantasy
    I can hide behind new personalities.
    I tend to walk away in the middle of the process
    Would rather not know the results
    Than find I'm an average disappointment

    That I'm once more a second or third choice
    So I leave before they leave me.
    I became a nomad changing scenes
    When the challenges overcome .

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    Its a...

    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    Beautiful.
    You are so beautiful.
    Not just your looks or your smile. Not just the voice or the eyes I could look into for miles.
    I know it sounds stereotypical but you are beautiful inside and out.
    But what is beauty? Beauty is in one's actions. In their
    charity and generosity. In the way
    they help those who need it and in
    the way they stand up for what they
    believe in. It shines through every
    kind word they speak. Beauty is in one's mind. We are never
    beautiful in our minds, even if our beauty
    is plain for others to see. We doubt other's
    compliments and flattery. We critique
    ourselves to become something
    unrecognizable, an ideal of perfection.
    In our minds, we are never beautiful,
    no matter how hard we try.
    Beauty is within. A person's heart and
    inner joy truly shows their inner beauty.
    Inner beauty is what makes a person
    beautiful. A person's inner beauty is their
    strength, their personality, what makes
    them unique. That's true beauty.
    Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
    Everyone, whether they admit it or not,
    sees people through their own tinted
    glasses. Whether it's seeing someone
    they love in a positive light, or someone
    they hate in a world of shadow, their opinion
    of someone affects how they see them.
    Beauty is in one's physical appearance.
    We hate to admit it, but that is the core of
    beauty. Our appearance and our image. We
    spend our days doing makeup, hair, buying
    clothes. All these silly, superficial things
    that shouldn't matter, but they do.
    Beauty is everywhere. In every sunrise
    and sunset, every plant and animal. In
    every little thing in life, beauty is there.
    Most importantly, beauty is in you.
    You are beautiful.

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    Beautiful

    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    In the coming year. May you,
    Accomplish many goals,
    Dream big dreams,
    Learn from your mistakes,
    Celebrate your success,
    Worry less about dumb stuffs,
    Drink just the right amount of coffee,
    accept the unchangeable,
    Fight for what is right,
    Be apart of exciting talks,
    Meet kind people,
    Try new things,
    Share your thoughts,
    Find your voice,
    And be really really happy ����

    @aleenah_shereef

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    Many many happy
    Returns of The Day
    Deareee
    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    എന്നെ ഒഴിവാക്കാൻ നീ കണ്ടെത്തിയ ബുദ്ധിയിൽ നീ ജയിച്ചു.. പക്ഷെ ഇനിയുള്ള നിന്റെ ജീവിതത്തിൽ ഈ ബുദ്ധി കാണിക്കരുത്... കാരണം എല്ലാവരും എന്നെപോലെ തോറ്റു തരില്ലെന്നു ഓർക്കുക...
    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    A steaming cup of coffee in my hand
    As I melt into my recliner
    Wondering who I am yet again
    My eyes wandering into the horizon
    Doesn't it bother you
    I think to myself as always
    At the end of the day
    Whom am I trying to impress and
    whom am I fighting to prevail?
    Is it absolutely necessary
    For me to go through these mundane trials
    And at the end what becomes of me
    And my humbles efforts giving out a glimpse
    A glimpse of me belonging...
    These thoughts, they consume me
    Layers upon layers worse that an onion
    Tranquility being a luxury these days
    The fear of being left out a problem
    I see that my cup is now empty
    And I slowly get up to face life (yet again)
    I look back; my recliner mocks me
    'Perhaps some other time as always...'

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    All The Sake Of Thinking

    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    ഓരോ മഴത്തുള്ളിയായി
    നിൻ പ്രണയം എൻ
    നെറുകയിൽ
    ഇറ്റുവീഴുമ്പോൾ അറിഞ്ഞിരുന്നില്ല നീയെൻ തേങ്ങലായി
    മാറുമെന്ന്.
    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    My mind destructs more than it perseveres,
    Weaving seemingly innocent instances into crime scenes where I have been
    Stabbed so many times,
    That my Hamlet loving mother is unable to recognize me in my mutiny,
    Roads remind me of flash,
    How velocity if used properly
    Could be painted in worn out tires and the spikes that adorn them,
    A passerby's gimmick,
    A student's disgust,
    For disturbing the metro services
    Another day, another capitalist failure,
    She'd snort, while revising for an exam
    With a 0.001 passing percentage
    Sometimes you don't really understand who the fool is,
    The one who giggles at anything,
    Never missing a beat,
    Or the poor guy who becomes the joke,
    To make everyone laugh,
    Poverty is the Planck's constant here,
    The elementary quantum of action,
    Mass can never be destroyed,
    Does that make my thoughts invincible?
    Only thing worth holding onto,
    Even if it's a ticking time bomb,
    Maybe my pathetic 5 year old cousin
    Will fill it with confetti and candies
    Happiness will bombard my face,
    Rendering it disgusting for my soul, forever,
    There's no redemption for a dog who chases a frightened boy 12 blocks,
    To lick his only meal in a week,
    And throw it back to him,
    Both discarded pieces of meat,
    In the clandestine world of snobby pretend vegans.

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    What Is Even Real?

    ©spellbond

  • manic_empress 53w

    Just a little poem for my introverted overthinking friends and strangers

    ________________________________

    It's three in the night, and I'm writing to you.
    The sky's dripping into your mug
    And you taste rain.
    It's the same mug in which you once used to drink hot rainbows,
    Topped with chocolate chips.

    The days taste cold and bland.
    And so does your tea.
    The nights smell of meltdown,
    Puffy eyes, lips quivering – like the flickering of an old tubelight.
    You long to remember the feeling of returning home,
    After a long hard day of work –
    Unbuttoning your shirt, you'd change into loosely hung clothes,
    And lie down on your warm bed.

    Like Polaroids exposed to sunlight for months,
    Your memories begin to fade.
    The way you cry into your palms and your pillows, it's almost like
    Your sadness suffers from stage fright.
    You've swapped shimmery LBDs for nightgowns,
    And eyeliners for dark circles.
    The night is spilling into morning,
    And you're staring at your celling, which resembles a zigzaging chaos –
    One that imitates a maze, but has no exit.

    For someone who once hated a speck of dust on the carpet,
    I see you not making any effort to pick up the tee you left back.
    The carpet is confused.
    And so am I.

    It's three-thirty in the night,
    And I'm listening to Cohen's songs of love and hate.
    And writing to you.
    (Do you smell cinnamon? Or is it just me?)

    Here's a reminder to not always look for pattern in clouds, music in waves,
    Poetry in a person.
    The world is not supposed to be a beautiful place, all the time.
    Your meltdowns are not poetic,
    And the coffee stain on your table cloth is not at all metaphorical.
    History has recorded a tangible trail of incredible writing,
    Be it in the plague, times of war, in the shackles of tragedy.
    So write that little piece of poetry
    For yourself.
    And take some time to be grateful for all the extraordinary things
    You've had taken for granted –
    Long walks. Small talks.
    Sitting at cafés and smiling at complete strangers. And them smiling back.
    Holding hands. Hugs. Longest hugs.

    The roads are empty,
    And the hearts are full of longing.
    It's four in the morning, and I'm brewing some tea.
    (I love the smell of cinnamon sticks. Do you, too?)
    As you wait in anticipation,
    Dressed in yearning skin,
    My tired fingers are writing this poetry for someone,
    They can touch the whole universe with.

    With a wake-up call and steaming cup of masala tea,
    Self-love .....

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    A Poem For OverThinkers

    ©spellbond