i 'm so Lovely, you are so Lovely, we're so lovely........ lovely lovely lovely.
- Park Jimin
If you need me call me I don't care if I'm sleeping, if I'm having my own problems or if I'm angry at you.If you need me and if you need to talk to me,I'll be there for you.No matter how big or how small your problem is,I'll be there.©shivranjanibhati
There is a love I reminisce, Like a seed I've never sown.Of lips that I am yet to kiss, And eyes not met My own.Hands that wrap around my wrists, And arms That feels like home.I wonder how it is I miss These things I have never known©shivranjanibhati
There's a miracle called friendshipThat dwells within the heart,And you don't know how it happensOr when it get start.But the happiness it brings youAlways gives a special lift,And you realize that friendships.Is life's most precious gift.©shivranjanibhati
Reality of my life ❤️By unknown writer
I am hard person to love but when I love, I love really hard.
You have shedA thousand skinsTo become the personYou are today. And if you ever feelOverwhelmedBy the many peopleYou onces were,Remember,Yours borns have grown,But what makes themHad never changed.©shivranjanibhati
I supposeI love my scarsBecauseThey haveStayed with meLongerThan most peopleHave.
Wars inside you
There are silences inside youThat you have yet to explore.There are things inside youThat are still fighting a war.Some days will be unkind Some days you will want to forget But stay for those daysThat are worth more than all the rest.Be easy on your soulIt need softness It needs timeIt needs patience.©shivranjanibhati
Because I have known despair I value hope.Because I have tasted frustration I value fulfillment.Because I have been lonely I value love.©shivranjanibhati
I still search For you in crowds, In empty fields And soaring clouds.In city lights And passing cars, On winding roads And wishing stars.I wonder where You could be now, For years I've not said Your name out loud.And longer since I called you mine- Time has passed For you and I.But I've learnt To live without, I don't mind- I still love you anyhow.©shivranjanibhati
Life is a kind of like a party.You invite a lot of people, some leave early, some stay all night, some laugh at you, and some show up really late.But in the end, after the fun, there are few who stay to help you clean up the mess.And most the time, they aren't even the ones who made the mess.These people are your true friends in life.They're the only onces who matter.©shivranjanibhati
#mondo #wod Thanks for the ❤Happy reading ❤
What's blue?~scattered pieces of my heart Kept in the casket of the sky Let it bleed my love Tonight~©unspokenpen1927
#mondo #lame #wod #idkifitmakessenseYellow my favourite colour
What is yellow?The color of hope painted over the skies of dreariness.~N.S©aquapearl
Being ignored by someone whose attention means the world to you is the worst feeling ever
#mondo #wod @writersnetwork @miraquill Thanks for the ❤Happy reading ❤
~Mondo~What's grey?~colour of my aesthetic ashes~What's Brown?~coffee seeds crushed on his bare skin and sun reflects my poetries on every part of his body ~What's silver?~moon dipped in my dolcent Heart~©unspokenpen1927
#confessionc #imor(12) What if not all of this is fiction? Would you still like me? You won't leave me, right?
I am 14 years old and I go to school each morning with a pit inside my stomach. Adrenaline fills my veins and I am ready to run. I cry when I realise I am not supposed to run, it seems my feet are doing it despite my control. I am 15 years old. I sit inside my school counselor's office and wonder why it is grey. A kid killed himself and they want to talk to the rest of the students, as if they can undo the boy's suicide. When my school counselor asks, I tell her I do not know why the kid killed himself. I didn't know him, he was older. "Why did he not want to live?", my school counselor does not answer. He asks me how I'm feeling and I tell him today I feel like nothing. I do not understand how people can feel like nothing. He asks me if the ground under my feet is solid and I panic and say "Yes, I can feel it." I don't like the look he gives me, I think he knows I'm lying. I am 15 years old. I wait outside of the classroom while my teacher talks to my parents. I try to listen in but can only catch glimpses of the conversation that don't really make much sense to me. the suicide - we're afraid - therapist. The only part I can clearly hear is my teacher saying we fear there might be something wrong with her. When my parents come out, they tell me it was nothing but my mother's eyes are red. I am 15 years old. I sit on the yellow chair in my therapist's office for the first time and tell her about how I count my days in colors. Blue is for the days I cry and white is kind of scary because it feels like nothing and black is so loud that it makes me want to punch myself. He asks me if I always want to punch myself and I say only sometimes, on black days. On white days too, because it makes me feel like something instead of nothing. "What about blue days?", he asks. "No, not blue days, on blue days I feel like everything. It feels like there is no in between."I am 15 years old. I sit on that same yellow chair 4 days later, only now there are 2 more people in the room. My parents sit quietly and my dad chews his nails, a habit he used to have when he was young. My mom looks like she's about to cry. I pray she doesn't. My therapist talks about the possibility of this becoming more than a one-time thing, as they'd told me beforehand, we play a question game and by the end of that session, I am diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder and social anxiety. He says my depression is triggered by it. They are big words and they send shivers up my spine. It is the first time I've heard them, but it won't be the last. I am 15 years old. I have been reading on social anxiety. It can be heritable, apparently. I think I may have gotten it from my dad, but his is undiagnosed, he never needed a therapist. His social anxiety did not have suicidal tendencies or the potential to kill him, his anxiety wasn't all-consuming, it didn't define him, it wasn't his ending. I am 15 years old. I tell my therapist I think I've had a panic attack, and when he asks me how it feels, I can't come up with anything. I cry because I think i'm faking it. He offers me a tissue and assures me I am not, but I do not believe him.I am 15 years old. I write down everything I can find about depression on the internet. The sentences are not always accurate, but one says I feel like I was never alive in the first place and I run my fingers on it again and again because it makes me feel seen. I am 15 years old. My best friend calls my name on a black day and I forget that's what I'm called. I forget she can see me. I forget I exist. I answer and she calls me again and again and I answer and she asks me where I am and I tell her here but it comes out like a whisper. She will not be my best friend for any longer if I keep forgetting my name. It is the first time I make myself bleed.I am 15 years old. I show the tiny scratches to my therapist and he explains how it's not a nice thing to do. He says I do not deserve to hurt. I do not tell him that I am selfish; the reason I did it was so I could know if is bleed, to make sure I exist. I know I do not deserve to hurt. I am 15 years old. I realise my brain tricks me into thinking things that are not true, but I can't tell when it stops. I can't tell the truths from the lies. I deserve to hurt. Who is telling me otherwise?I am 15 years old. I believe my brain is stupid but my therapist says it's just different, I think different is stupid. My friends don't understand stupid. My friends have been calling me a freak and I don't understand why I keep calling them my friends. But if I stop calling them my friends, I'll be alone. No one wants to be friends with someone who is afraid of them. I am 15 years old. My therapist asks me if I want to punish myself and what kind of question is that to ask a 12 year old? but my anxiety doesn't ask. I don't know, I say, sticking my fingernails into my palms. "You're bleeding," he says, and I know. I like the way it feels. Don't do that, he says, and I say okay, and do it anyways. These days I don't care about anything at all. I am 15 years old, my therapist asks me about the boy's death in my school and I say I still don't understand. He had the choice in front of him, he had the opportunity to live, why did he not take it? We're not asked if we want to live or not, right? We're just thrown in here. I learn that most people want to live and I get mad at whoever ruined it for me. I want better. I want better. I want better. I-don't deserve better.I am 15 years old. My therapist thinks I should use medication for my anxiety and depression. My mom cries in the therapy session this time. She asks the question I was thinking. "Is she really that bad?" It feels like a punch to the gut. Am I really that bad? Why "she"? Why "I"? Shouldn't it be "it"? I don't listen to the side effects of the drugs. I spend the entirety of that therapy session repeating to myself "I am not my anxiety I am not my anxiety I am not my anxiety". When I go home, I want to write it in blood, maybe I really am that bad. I am 15 years old. I take the medication for the first time and spend the whole day in bed, throwing up. My mom keeps sniffing and I hate her for it. I hate how she acts as if her daughter has died, maybe I am dead. I think I'm dead. I'm not breathing, how can I keep breathing, I want to die. Oh god, I want to die. I stand up and my sight is blurry but my mind is so certain. I start to walk but my legs give out. I fall and my mom rushes to my side. I tell her I want to die and she says this is my medication talking and I say no, no, it's me. Mom, you don't understand, all of this is me. You can't separate me from the anxiety, from the wanting to die. My mom holds my shaking body down as I cry and I can't remember the rest of the first few weeks after starting my medication. It turns out it was the wrong dose for me, but it awakens something in me. The feeling of wanting to die doesn't leave.I am 15 years old. Some days I am afraid to leave the house because crossing the road is too dangerous and some days I want to walk in front of moving cars. Some days I want to stick my hand in boiling water and some days I don't feel anything at all. I learn so many new terms. Dissociation, intrusive thoughts, suicidal tendencies, they are so scary, but I'm beginning to get used to fear, it is slowly turning into everything I know. Fear is shaking hands and breaking bones, it is a body that keeps on bleeding, even when you put a bandage on it. Fear spills out of the pores and onto the floor and it evaporates and I inhale it again and the process keeps repeating itself, it is never-ending. I'm so tired. I am 15 years old. I don't think the boy who killed himself in my school ever had a chance.I am older now. I have panic attack after panic attack and I have still not gotten used to them. The sweat in my forehead is so fucking uncomfortable and the scars in my hands and arms are so fucking ugly. I'm so angry all the time, but most of the time I'm still nothing. I finally understand the boy in my school. I wondered why he didn't make the choice to live but I understand now what it takes to make that choice. I finally understand how you have to make that choice each morning when you wake up and each night when you go to sleep and each second you breathe on this earth. I finally understand all the fucking sacrifice and the blood and the tears and the sweat and the plans and the feelings and the black abyss of nothingness it takes. It's exhausting but there are these moments that make it so worth it. Someone understanding me doesn't feel triumphant, or earth-shattering, but it feels warm. It feels like a chance.~some days, living is the bravest thing I can muster ©queen_butterfly
What's black ?My shadows which are lost in the Darkness so dark .What's white ?My soul which is made so pureTo match your serenity. What's red ?My blood which bleeds To penetrate poetries. What's purple ?My night sky so dull Without your stars. What's pink ?My cheeks which long To blush for you .What's green ?My veins which are Boosted with belief . What's blue ?My ink which has dried Losing hopes .What's yellow ?My sun which once spread light And now it's no more bright .#mondo #wod @miraquill @writersnetwork #ceesreposts(Hope this apt for the challenge, I wrote all the mondos in one post , easy for you ppl to read ....now say thank you. Lol.just kidding )
What's Love ?
The mixture of all these shades which forms a unique rainbowAnd fall for you .©pink_berry
5-7-7 #mondo #wodThe color of life is the one between the dusk and dawn.It's the one that can be as bright as yellow, and as dark as black.In between the grey's it has thousand shades.It can bleed like red. It can ink like blue.It can be warm like orange, and shine like yellow sun.It's something that's as enough as everything.It has no color, yet it can paint every color.It has no perfect definition yet it can define everything.©shadowofthoughts_
What's color of life?
It's somewhat like tainted moon, meeting the brightest star - sun. ©shadowofthoughts_
#mondo @writersnetworkI can't write anymore.
What's Golden? It's the sunlight blush of stardust painting my blue stranger hue.©themoonandthesun
#mondo #wod @miraquill @writersnetworkChallenge accepted ♡♡@unspokenpen1927 ♡@shadowofthoughts_ ♡@shivranjanibhati ♡
What is black?
Black is When the sky needs some help from the stars to glow in fatal darkness.©jikimi
#mondo @writersnetwork#pod @miraquill All Rights Reserved17 Oct 2021 11.11 am These are colors ^_^Hues of Haven ~ Mondos / 1- What does Xanadu evoke ? Part grey of monotone idle and part green of vibrant melodies, fusion of factual and fancy /2- What is Sarcoline shade ?Orange of sunset dreams melting on brown of barren mind, forlorn falling and fading out /3- What burns Coquelicot ?Fire of rage and rain of passion where orange and red twist and turn, swirling desire and dare /4- What does Smaragdine suture ?The emerald emotions and jocund jade, needles of time spin and spin, till scars heal /5- What is Mikado's muse ?Sweven of sunshine to sashay in spring where blooms of yellow beams in warmth and joy /6- Why does Glaucous glitter ? Sprinkle of tints and shades on plums and plains, powdery snowflakes of winsome winter /7- What welcomes Wenge ?Earthly dust and coppery crumbs, duals on homesick wanderers land, wafting wonders /8- Where does Fulvous fly to ?Flashing fervour and beckoning butterscotch, blurs into beams, basking in shadows of rage /9- What does Falu follow ?Heated halos and mixed mischiefs, painted on scenery of serenity and solitude, a rusted rouge /10- What is the ecstasy of Eburean ?Washed off white and ironed ivory, parchments pastel and pigments of past /11- What amuses Amaranth ?Bleeding mortals and blaming immortals, blooms believed to never beseech, everlasting love / 12- What color does Poetry fade into ?Poetry pours in multitude hues, beyond beholder's blues and above amassing vibgyors, it melts into shades of souls /©Anjali KrishnaAll Rights Reserved
What color does Poetry fade into ?Poetry pours in multitude hues, beyond beholder's blues and above amassing vibgyors, it melts into shades of souls©ak_anjali_daydreamzz