It's funny how we get labelled for voicing opinions. It's funny how we are taught to keep our opinions behind fake smiles. It's funny how the inner storm of muffled opinions goes unnoticed. It's funny and ironic but one day the storm will descend thunderously. Because there's always silence before a storm. #the_silence_before_a_storm#thoughts#feelings@miraquill
The girl who always wished to learn got her wish fulfilled. She was blessed with the privilege of being among the best. But then came expectations..... It came with extra tags of disappointed, disgusted, mocking and disappointed (♾️x) faces... It shattered her ladder of thirst for knowledge and not forgetting her confidence. Now she's the silent girl in the corner who's lost. She's desperately searches for herself but, There's nothing but chaos all around her. #expectations@mirakee@writersnetwork
The rains cascading the rooftops, Petrichor for stale adjectives, Crippled imageries squint out of the window, Grafitti on the town walls, Screaming, crying, seeking. Help, subdued wants and tears, Confetti of mouldy metaphors, Littered the floor. Black garlands, mourning for the gone, Empty chairs and bleak corners, Feeble neon phrases taped on the ceiling, Skies having falling st(c)ars, Graves of syllables dotting the view, Words needed for the eulogy at the funeral of my words, Can I borrow your's? Lyrics after lyrics, Poetries after poetries, Shot dead in the brutal war. The pens have lost the colors , inking tears around, The houses are hollow, The streets are empty, The silhouettes of ballads haunts my nightmares, Everything's gone, The ancient city is empty, I have lost all my poetries, In the vicious massacre, Caused by me, me alone, My words are dead, And my words are dead.
The growing leaf tells me the story of infancy, That how much I was innocent in my young days, Like small buds are free to grow in bright sunshine, I was also free to move in any direction, in any way, I tried to capture that moment in my small hands, But that period of my life’s duration quickly sails away.
The waving leaf tells me the story of my childhood, That how in my childhood, I used to wave in infinite sky, Some leaves left the tree to explore the universe, Similarly, I had a wish inside me, to break chains and fly, Now, I am asking for that golden period again, But time never returns, don’t know why?
The green colored leaf tells me the story of my adulthood, That how I had many responsibilities on my shoulder, Green leaves feed the whole tree by doing many efforts, In the same way, I used to feed my family, as I turned older, But as their hard work, made the leaf greener, Similarly, this toil turned me stronger and bolder.
The dwindling leaf tells me the story of parentage, That how I lost my identity in adorning the young ones, The parent leaf shrank and turned pale yellow, And give its color to its next generation, That’s how I, as a parent, prettify them in teenage, By giving them warmth, while burning my skin in sun.
The freely falling leaf tells me the story of death, That everything and everyone on this Earth, has an end, The leaf was shining in dark green color, few moments back But now it has fallen lifeless, in a general trend, This taught me that nothing is permanent in the life, Neither your existence nor mine, my dear friend.