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  • say_me_krish 17w

    Couldn't have had a better third pod. Thank you so much for this overwhelming gift and surprise reposts @mirakee and @writersnetwork ❤️ (67, 12)
    Krish adores you and will miss you both ��

    | A life without a facade |

    My mother advised me
    to have a bigger mouth
    but to make some
    ornate filigrees as my
    borders so that
    the population of my
    conversation doesn't
    drown due to overflow,
    and anger accompanying
    can make my words
    dipped in sinister letters.
    She said that people
    judge by my parlances,
    and I should neither
    bring droughts nor floods.
    -- L i m i t a t i o n s --

    My father ordered me
    to read about the
    Statue of Liberty for
    some motivations and
    applications for straight
    spines while walks,
    but warned me to
    transform my copper-parts
    to layered and steady
    stainless-steel crockeries.
    He believes that rust
    cannot have paints upon,
    and a plate can relish
    and make savour too.
    -- T o u g h n e s s --

    I said to both of them
    that living alone can
    still be a priority,
    but wearing a facade
    is not. Speaking is a
    choice, talking an
    option, and being
    myself is an essence.
    My postures are my own,
    and being somebody
    else kills my existence,
    my breakage can
    only happen when I give
    a chance, and I do not.
    I said change isn't
    The law of nature, and
    my jingle is "to evolve,
    improve and amend"
    -- (R) e v o l u t i o n --

    They said I do not
    understand the world,
    I said they did not
    understand what being
    myself meant to me.
    -- S e l f  l o v e --

    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S | Dec 20, 2020

    The previous post is meant for farewell itself, so let's make this a nice and normal literary post :)

    ornate filigrees- a metaphor for fences

    @writersbay #skp_writes #twosidesc #jinglec

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  • say_me_krish 18w

    Advanced congratulations for all pods and reposts, advanced and belated wishes for all birthdays. Stay happy, blessed, and away from bots XD. It is ok if I'm not remembered, I remember things, and that's enough.

    Please don't feel down, sad, or angry if I do not reply or comment. It would either be because
    1. I might have not remembered your name since there are many to comment to.
    2. I might have left by the time.
    3. And not for the reason that you aren't a matter to me. Everybody here to whom I've talked to mean something to me, and except bots and stalkers, I hate none here, okay?

    Goodbye ����

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    Last words (of/for) Krish

    He has taken a temporary leave, quite long though
    (since he is leaving to his college hostel, not anything else)

  • say_me_krish 18w

    Disclaimer: Contains sensitive information. Read at your own risk.
    A LETTER ✉

    The one who is
    genuinely loved.

    Dec 14, 2020

    Dear REAL,
    My body is burning when I'm sitting here to write out this. I don't know why (You can keep a count of the words don't know, feel, strange, lonely; just in case). Life is a hard mess, and there aren't visible threads which lead to a path of clarity. Life to me was pretty strange, or if I were weird for the existence of life, is a myth. And myths aren't meant to be resolved, but are meant to be talked about over and over in the path of searching a solution without knowing that at the end, death is everyone's destination. But the journey can still be different, through different paths, in different perspectives. The sentences I'm writing might feel irrelevant to each other, but read it again darling, it makes sense when you vanish from my shadows and reach my heart. It is just a movement of mere 90 degrees, and I want you, at least you, to understand that I exist, I want to, and I do not want to.

    Sometimes, I feel so lonely in a wedding function of a thousand people, and I don't know why. I pretend that I've puked out the heavy meals and sleep in a corner with some whispers which aren't about me. I feel that nobody can understand what I'm going through, and I don't dare to test anyone. I definitely wouldn't portray myself and you to be feeble and fragile. I'm just too alone in this world, where all I can talk to is my pillow, pen and music. I talk to people so well, they talk to me well too, but there mumbles a gut feeling of sadness when I realize that they aren't loving me as much as I do, and I don't know if it's true. My thought runs so complicated that I cannot understand myself at times. The world has 7 people who look similar to me, and yet doesn't have one to explain and elucidate me with what's going on around me. I'm too surprised with how people are so good at pretending, I'm too shocked at how some people always stay happy, I'm too confused with the difference between winter and fall, and my mind is sprinting towards strange thoughts.

    I wonder what if condoms get a life, would they bellow or be filled with lust themselves. What if arteries and veins were meant to be entwined instead of a sexual intercourse? Why is this very normal thing feels embarrassed to be spoken upon, and why I myself feel peculiar to make some jokes upon? I think of whether people are flashing their looks at me since I walk strangely. I want to fall from the terrace and see how it feels, and check upon who bring flowers and greetings, and who actually cry. I also think if I can dissect my own mind and find some answer to my existence, whether I was an accident or an intention. My mind is just so very complex. I feel sad that everyone calls me cute but not handsome. Strange again. I get angry over a man who shouts on his son on the road, and I say to myself that he's poor in parenting and that he was a son of short temper. I feel Empathetic for a depressed person , but I feel scared and angry for no reason upon them. I wonder what if I was handicapped, and I think of dying the very next moment. I think my life is the worst, and I think some existences come with 'worst' in their melanin. I don't even know if I'm completely happy or depressed, and I don't know why I'm living right now. Why are you meant to live with such a mad? Why?

    I hate people who are pretentious, but I remember that I've lied to my mother at times. I hate people who wear a facade, and I'm the one who forcefully curves his lips up when someone waves at me. I want some nice person to talk to me, bring the problem out of me, and nobody in this universe cares for this atomic structure. Do you? I feel like crying when somebody doubts me and my honesty. It feels like I'm caged in a vacuum. I don't believe in love at young age, I believe it's just attraction towards somebody's thoughts and physique, and I wonder if it is the problem of the age or the mind. I am not sure. I wonder what it feels like to love somebody, to share your lips and melt with the other's, and how it feels to be loved. I feel numb. Do you understand?

    I recently read "All the bright places" once, and I'm reading it again, and my artificial bookmark lies in page 201. I wondered what if Finch would have actually lived. If I had met him, he would've definitely understood me. I could've blocked the Blue Hole for him, maybe. He was right in dying, but he was wrong for not speaking to Violet. Violet was a whole mess of a mistake at the end, let us forget Ma'am Markey. His death brought me a feeling of death for myself. I felt like a breathing carcass who is shedding his sadness ou of waters. I'm just Perplexed with how the world is, and I don't know why I'm living. I. Don't. Know. I'm in a quicksand and I'm panicking, if you know what I mean.

    I just have even tried to die and withdrew my feelings many times, it sounded so stupid. I've made unsuccessful deaths by holding my breath, mixing two soaps in water and swallowing it, trying to look down from a tall building, pricking my hand by my compass etc,. I want to find a way for a perfect life. A life where someone believes me when I say I get good marks out of fortune, a life where I can find my Personal legend, a life where I can find some stardust for myself, a life where I matter for someone in this cosmos, a life where I can write good. A. Life. Where. I. Can. Live. Knowing. The. Reason. Of. Living.
    I don't have a bipolar disorder, just shut up, if you were to say that. They're just "labels", go read the book. I don't need treatment and physicians, I need some solicitude, and some love.

    I just want something, some happiness I wish too. I want my strange feelings to disappear. Bring a painkiller, a fire extinguisher and an oxygen tank to make me feel better, and a poisoned knife, some hallucinations, and a sleeping pill box just in case I don't like to love myself. I know you aren't bringing the last three things. But still, I wanted to say. I like to be myself with you. You understand? Write a letter soon. Come to me and define my existence.


    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S

    Sorry for the boring read, if you made it till here.
    @writersnetwork #poemtomec #skp_writes #skp_letters
    @writersbay Poem was tough, sorry ��

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  • say_me_krish 19w

    WILLOW (song 4)

    ~ᴠᴇʀsᴇ 1~
    My kiss is like the snowflake your cheeks embraced last night
    Smooth with the lipstick but cracked with my sorrows and blight
    And if layers were absent, in case
    The smile on your face would vanish n' efface
    And then I would cry like a heavy cloud

    ~ᴄʜᴏʀᴜs 1~
    You love me too much, it shows in shallow
    But my happy sides are hollow
    And I don't desire to see you hurt
    I'll just stay mum but not inert

    ~ᴠᴇʀsᴇ 2~
    Life is a hard game when you pop up near my bed
    I feel scared if I refuse and break those threads
    As if I hate your drolls
    I act too dumb like you wouldn't console
    But you're a galaxy with stars for me (only me)

    ~ᴄʜᴏʀᴜs 1~

    ~ᴄʜᴏʀᴜs 2~
    Since you're the carpenter with good repairs
    And you can point out and compare
    The new are fake ones, the old agrees
    I'll try to get out, and off the screes

    You are my shadow and I cannot see it blue
    I want to paint you with a smiling hue
    You are my shadow and I cannot see it blue
    And I'll surely come back with the beams that you had drew

    ~ᴠᴇʀsᴇ 3~
    Wait for my healing and I'll come like a sunflower
    I'll heal my scars with your stars and a mild shower
    Now this might be a good pastime
    And an open test of your spring clime
    I know you'll pass the course, will you? (You will)

    ~ᴄʜᴏʀᴜs 1 and ᴄʜᴏʀᴜs 2~ (X2)

    /Hey, that's my man
    That's my man
    Yeah, that's my man/
    Baby, I know you'll pass the course
    /That's my man
    Hey, that's my man/
    I act too dumb like you wouldn't console
    (You are) A galaxy, with stars for me

    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S | Dec 12, 2020

    ~Lyrics tuned to: 'Willow' by Taylor Swift ��
    ~Song link in bio, summary in comments ��
    ~The lines in /..../ are from the song

    @writersnetwork @writersbay @sangfroid_soul @laus_deo @thewordplayer #skp_writes #desirec

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  • say_me_krish 19w

    The repetition of the words "presence" and "absence" was intentional :/
    Thanks for the unexpected repost WN, was about to delete this ����❤️

    @writersnetwork (60, 10) @sangfroid_soul @laus_deo @thewordplayer #skp_writes

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    I've spent my 70080 hours
    thinking of a world
    without your presence in
    a universe which has exploded
    my love for
    you and made it
    absent in your heart,
    and present in the abyss.

    It is strange how the bathtub
    which drenched me
    in red rose petals and the
    colourless existence
    drowned me in the presence
    of dejection with
    pain holding purple chrysanthemums
    for my funeral in the
    bathroom, and
    it will happen in my
    absence, since the place
    which finds my presence
    will be a coffin and
    a pit of reasons
    which would be closed
    with some extra soil
    of excuses. After
    all, there lies
    no difference in the
    journey from the tub
    to the wood-box,
    burial is present
    as a mathematical
    common factor,
    and the only thing
    which is absent,
    is y o u.

    The showers make
    me feel cold,
    my blood feel clotted,
    my body feel numb,
    and myself feel dead.
    The campfires
    which we blazed together
    for some warmth,
    for our absent love, and
    for Santa to get some
    heat after his journey
    on sleigh would be completed
    has burnt my fantasy and
    non-fiction, and it seems to be
    total injustice.
    The fire, again, is present,
    but rage and gradients
    decide whether
    it warms or burns.
    And the love letters
    which danced in the almirahs
    to romance melodies are
    absent, and I wish
    I could satisfy the Hunger of
    the blaze and make myself

    Whatever is absent
    for the one,
    might still be present
    for the other,
    like you, who still fakes a smile
    upon the chest of
    that guy, who might feel
    your absence and presence
    at the same time
    someday, just like I do.
    And while saying this,
    I wish I could've made you
    absent to the entire world,
    but my mother has
    taught me goodness, and said not
    to hurt anybody else.

    I'm gonna ask her
    why she didn't
    clarify me that I shouldn't hurt
    my existence just for
    somebody's absence.
    The world was injust for me,
    and justice is
    still present they say,
    and the ones who say this are
    the o n e s
    who made her
    b l i n d

    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S | Dec 11, 2020

  • say_me_krish 19w

    ~bearcat troubles~

    My life's a mess, and it all
    started when my innocent-eyed
    beards fell to the radiant braids-
    detaching the knots was hard
    since my hands weren't in sail,
    and hers were only good to leave
    back a carcass wig which was
    trained everyday with mimic lessons
    for a pretence, costing pities of a
    leaf which wasn't ready to hold
    dead xylems and suicide with
    a note of autumn, killed by a crush.
    And unfortunately, the game's on,
    and the pawns aren't carved to sleep.

    She came with a glue for the broken
    confines of my picture frames
    with promises of bondages, and the
    unknown facts that glues were glees
    and frames were to rot again
    crash my mind only after regrets invited.
    I sometimes felt that this was the darkest
    hour, and the next wouldn't bring
    something magnificent either.
    She was a nightmare dressed like a
    daydream, and I was a fool wrapped
    in a black suit which made me look fierce
    for a price of a whole 1000 dollars.
    My love was more precious though,
    but the bid price ended up to be a farewell.

    I didn't write poems for her for I
    feared that I might limit myself to only words,
    and I forgot in the flow that poets
    love ironies, and her grandfather was
    a poet too; ancestral blood flows in her,
    and it was again unknown to me.
    Love wasn't meant to be limited,
    but when souls grow distant and spaces
    expand, the telephone call cuts off.
    It was all a mere game of a queen
    in a white gown from the black sides,
    and I had to black out my pure whites
    after realizing things unseen and unheard
    from the thickest books of philosophy.

    It is now, and it is late, when I
    understand that things seem shocking
    and unknown since we wouldn't want
    to face the truth, and trust issues
    can make even an eye-specialist blind.
    I'm sorry for the mistake,
    but I'm not sorry for myself:
    I couldn't resurrect tombstones
    and cobblestones back to life,
    and I didn't want to.
    A demon with a makeover will
    still be a demon, and you cannot
    dress one into an angel's disguise.

    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S | Dec 9, 2020

    The title is explained in the comments section :)

    The phrase "a nightmare dressed like a daydream" is taken from Taylor Swift's song ~Blank space~

    @writersnetwork @writersbay @sangfroid_soul @laus_deo @kir_tiiii #skp_writes #tombstonec

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  • say_me_krish 19w


  • say_me_krish 20w

    I'll be doing such stuff till my draft piece completes *-*
    If you post something like this, tag me ��
    #mirakeeKBC (Humne bhi trend create kiya h ����)

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  • say_me_krish 20w

    Her eyes are fireballs
    holding the warmth
    of springtides and beaches
    for my winters.

    Her lips are glaciers
    melting like butter
    after making a love-look
    with my ocean eyes.

    Her face is a sunflower
    which blooms for
    the break of my dawns,
    a sun-sunflower she is.

    Her heart is a street
    which rains roses
    from trees, for she's my
    symbol of uniqueness.

    She is a romance poetry
    holding her essence
    in the metaphors
    I write all day long.

    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S | Dec 3, 2020.

    Just wrote in 2 minutes. Sorry.
    @floki__ Aapne kaha, aur humne likh diya ��
    @writersnetwork (59, 9) @thewordplayer #skp_writes

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  • say_me_krish 20w

    "A winner is a dreamer who never gives up."
    ~ɴᴇʟsᴏɴ ᴍᴀɴᴅᴇʟᴀ


    Hello fellow Mirakeeans! I hope the sunsets are bright enough there in front of your window and sights to paint one more beautiful poem or prose on. I am extremely sorry to interrupt your view, but finally, I'm here with the results of the
    'ᴡᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ'
    hosted by me in mid September (Don't stare at me, I was never a latecomer in my school, so I felt Mirakee was good ����)
    I've tried my best to be unbiased, I hope the decisions resemble the same :")
    Boom! ����

    �� @saya__
    A perfect piece with a sense of nostalgia, mixed with the perfect metaphors. Congratulations ��
    Here's your prize ��

    �� @thesunshineloves
    A tremendous piece illustrated with sheer beauty. "Love is the last lifeline". Congratulations ��
    Here's your prize ��

    ��@say_me_krish ��
    (since he hosted the challenge XD)
    {OK, don't gape at me ��}

    �� @eclipsed_sun
    A pulchritudinous piece of a dark genre, yet heartwarming and hitting at the same time {what I felt XD}. Heartiest congratulations ��
    Here's your prize {the size is larger XD} ��


    And the accessits, not forgotten to be mentioned!

    A really nice piece setting an aura with the lovely description of star crossed lovers.
    Your prize, take it with your virtual hands ����

    A poem describing about lifestyle of our beautiful co-humans on point!
    Widen your hands to reach the shield ����

    A short yet amazing writeup holding descriptions with truths of the present generation.
    Here is your shield ����

    "We're blooming buds till we wither", just beauteously perfect! It indeed was thoughtful.
    Take the weight of the shield coated with layers of my gratitude ����

    A funny yet a poignant piece bringing memories of our favourite cartoons, it was really cute!
    Yours is here, lovely lady ����


    This clearly was a challenge posted to get people out of their busy schedules and writersblock, and hence nobody should be saddened with the prizes. After all, I'm just your fellow friend here, and my perceptions cannot decide your writing, right? ��
    Congratulations again, to everyone who participated in my effort ����

    Stay happy, keep shining ��

    P. S. : Bg edits are done purely by me with my own template ������

    @_rainfrost_ Finally, ee lo ��������
    #skp_writes #skpc -- for all my challenges
    #smk_we_ch -- to read the submissions of this prompt

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