nawikrita_t_rai

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It must've been the lunatics who invented love.

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  • nawikrita_t_rai 83w

    Loss

    When they leave us, our counter intuition is to think that it's their loss, that they're losing a special person, and that we've got nothing to lose. This thought makes us deal with their absence for sometime and makes us believe that we've moved on and won. However, deep down there's an underlying feeling of loss which we keep suppressing and overlooking- that feeling of guilt, regret and most dominantly of loss. Then there comes a rainy day when all is gloomy and grey- these flat-ironed thoughts emerge into our insecurities and shake us out of oblivion to remorse which keeps increasing as the rain falls harder and harder. It's okay, let them flow into your nerves, that's how you're going to release them. You don't have to be in control all the time, sometimes it's okay to be sad and mourn for the loss of a life and some love. You can decide to be happy again tomorrow.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 85w

    Illegible words

    When I make fair notes from the ones given by seniors, many a times there are words that are simply illegible. I try very hard to understand it, bringing it closer or from afar, but in vain. I leave it there- a blank and continue writing. After a while, or even a couple of days, I come back to it and I am able to decipher it. Sometimes it makes me feel stupid for being inattentive and other times I feel like a genius. The bigger picture here is that some people, some relationships are like those words- we often try so hard to understand, to include in our present line but we fail to see for what it is. I've learned to leave it there, fold the corner of the page and come back to it later. Perhaps because if I try too hard and read it wrong, then that one misread word is going to change or even ruin the entire meaning.

    However, if I'm still unable to recognize, I'm bound to replace it.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 88w

    In Pieces

    Flashbacks. Falling. Failing. Fading.
    A taunt here, a scoff there
    Is enough now to trigger what lies suppressed in here
    Early memories of muffled cries
    Wiping off a tear before it dries under the pressure of disappointed eyes.

    The stupid child seeking love
    The dull one trying too hard to be loved
    Beaten for a half, hated for a quarter reasons
    Liked for a little, her existence always in pieces.

    She tells me that she is on the outside
    Of love, of life- an outsider
    Like in the indefinite time between two snapshots
    Or at the bottom of a dried flower pot;
    I peep into their hearts, I lay it bare
    A nobody- I don't find her there.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 90w

    R.I.P.

    You who talk about open-mindedness
    You who talk about acceptance
    But you aim in slaughtering the openness
    Your eyes and your mind always on what lies under
    The fabric of our independence, you wander...

    You offer your hand for friendship
    But between your fingers lie your lust to rip
    To slander;
    'Tis about humanity here, not only of gender
    The songs of which irks you into your room
    Into your locker, into your G drive and with whom
    You share, you laugh and you curse
    All lie in the tomb of virtue and worse.

    I weep at your graves, died too young I heard
    And offer wreaths of words
    Words about respect, words about consent
    That should've been fed to you from birth
    And as you lie here still* in morality
    Decaying, deteriorating in quality
    'Millenials'- you were, 'modern'- you said
    Heartless and thoughtless you are, living as cold as dead.

    *still- motionless

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 94w

    To my 12-year-old self

    Tender, my love, tender
    The harshness you've recorded is not what you deserve
    Not for you to surrender
    Not for you to preserve.

    The inferior zone in which you tread now
    It exists because you allow it
    The uncertainty of what or how
    'Tis not the time to lose and sit.

    The friend who doesn't sit with you
    And the others who pretend
    The brother you look up to
    All are going to see you through.

    They'll see you walk through the platitudes of fitting in
    See you tread over the emotions that manipulate
    See you get comfortable in your skin
    See you stumble and crumble but they'll also see you march straight.

    There'll come a day, some nine years from now
    When you'll read all that you've written
    And those insecurities somehow
    You will have forgotten
    Only those pages will contain and remember
    The harsh stains that stayed forever.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 95w

    What do you do when you miss
    What should one do when all that is left is longing, amidst
    Our 'could've beens'
    Our bygone days of teenage dreams
    And now our lives apart
    And memories by heart
    In an island, not of emptiness
    But of absractness
    Of your feelings and mine
    Intended in this shrine of my failing words.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 101w

    I who stand here facing the coast
    As the sun finally sets and the hour that I dread the most
    Has begun to engulf every ounce of existence around me and within
    O weary heart, how have you been?

    I am not scared of monsters or demons
    Neither of crowds or people
    I fear the one that comes when I'm alone
    The one that is shooed away by laughter but breeds in the silent abode
    The seeds of abuse and offense
    That grow each day with every passing fellow in defense
    I win, I lose and again I lose.

    I began adorned with jewels of confidence and self-love
    Shining peacefully like the moon above
    In this river, rowing the boat at last
    Going forward but continually feeling the pull of the past.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 104w

    HUPOMENO

    The flowers in my garden: friendship, love and acquaintance
    Bloomed in full fragrance
    In scents of belief, regard and trust
    As the months marched from April to August.

    Ravaging winds blew up the ground
    And reality was found,
    Some only swayed while some uprooted
    Disaster arrived and minds polluted.

    Like a dartboard I lay open for all
    With each word thrown neared my fall
    Shooting at every sphere of my life but missing the point
    Shattering every corner and cutting off all my joints.

    In doubt, in confusion, and in pain
    In misjudgement, embarrassment and in shame.

    I cried with Job, "O Lord! Remember me, your handcrafted clay"
    Don't forsake me, don't leave me here today,
    My Saviour saith,
    "Hupomeno: remain in vibrant faith."

    Praise God! Devil is bucking at what I'm doing
    Sending pawns to attack and to ruin
    God's will that I want to carry
    His Spirit that abides in me.

    Their mistake is not my truth
    I will not let them buy my youth
    Kneeling, praying or even crawling
    Yet determined to answer His calling.


    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 105w

    The Eyes

    The windows lay open and the curtain is drawn
    The vision is clear yet the night is on
    They look at me and the lingo translates
    I see judgement, I see indifference and there's also hate.

    Job* laments his birth and I my worth
    The cold that haunts this winter dearth
    Am I floating away in affliction or lying in stagnant sorrow
    The confused fog surrounds me but I've yet to go
    For the night is still on.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai

  • nawikrita_t_rai 107w

    Building up the wall

    I stood alert, secure and warm
    Inside the 'newcomer' wall that I'd form'd
    But with each kind word that she spoke
    And all his smiles broke
    The ice that lay frozen since ages
    The threshold that opened only in my pages;
    I laid down one by one the bricks from my wall
    And one after another did the insecurities crawl,
    Some plotted, smuggled and left
    Bereft of words and courage, I couldn't voice the theft;
    I saw them holding hands, and turning their backs
    The damage is done and my body is holding up its cracks
    A tear here, a bruise there
    A broken bone, a broken heart, yet a murmur of a prayer.

    Men and women with their masks on
    But they forget their gloves and leave fingerprints all around
    And some reckless words of 'trust' and something to do with appearances and faces.
    I pick them up, my runover bricks of experience
    And now resilience.
    The wall is built high for a goodbye
    They stay out and I'll be in with my own affair
    Building up the wall, their words as I recall
    And it scares me recalling
    Of how close I came to falling.

    ©nawikrita_t_rai