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  • sayoneenandi_ 86w

    Pills.

    Pills, blue and pink. Hard to swallow, but have to feed.
    Feed the insolent whistles that the heart let's out, it's an endless cycle of a cloudless route.
    The route to emotionless, is a tiresome one.
    Pop a few more pills, to drain it all out.
    The pills are for the broken, stirred and the dead.
    The dead that hear drums in their heads.

    The head is full of tangles, tangles that can't be undone.
    The pills lay forgetten and the ridiculous joyment of the painless thorns begun.
    Madness and loud cries, fill an endless night.
    What feels like a midnight abyss, can only be survived by the morning light.

    Twist and turn till the body gives out fumes of the pained veins. Veins that carry feelings, veins that separate us from the dead.
    Let the dead know, that their party needs to be stopped, for there is a girl waiting, to take the place of the dead man's faceless drop.

    The discarded feelings and the discarded pain can never be taken over by the living again. For being alive and happy on pills, is being dead in the world of the living.
    ©sayoneenandi_

  • sayoneenandi_ 102w

    Do I really need to describe this?

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    Toy Box

    I opened a little box,
    It had a lot of toys,
    I picked it up one by one and placed it in order.

    One toy, particularly peculiar, had her arm cut out.
    I sewed it back in but it just never felt right. Never felt whole.
    I placed them in the same order again.
    Something was ghastly amiss, I reordered and started again.
    This time the colours didn't fit well.
    I followed the scale from lighter hues to darker and fixed them again.

    It was the fiftieth time I had tried fixing the oddity, it still felt somewhat irregular.
    I fixed it again.

    It was past 4am now, I was supposed to eat. I don't think I ate for a while now.
    So I decided to take a break, eat and sleep.

    Sleeping was particularly more tiresome, I couldn't concentrate on keeping my eye lids aligned, I couldn't concentrate on the aspect of falling asleep.

    Something felt odd, in the far end of my room, at a corner where the gorgeously pretty toy box sat.
    However, I knew rest is important, so I tried to sleep again.
    Instead, I kept thinking about the box, the toys and how everything seemed weird.

    Aside from the colour of the toys and the obviously broken arm, I started recapitulating about the braids of their hair, their smile on their faces, whether they were happy being beside one another or not.
    Whether they liked the room or even me.

    Whether they liked their clothes, or their smell. Whether they liked to play with me or whether they disliked my fingers.

    Whether they thought I tore her hand or if they felt I was hurting them.

    The oddity bothered me, it was past 4pm in the evening now.
    So I sat down to explain all the questions, and fix their alignment again, but this time I thought maybe they wanted me to die and if I should.
    ©sayoneenandi_

  • sayoneenandi_ 108w

    Done with you

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    In your eyes

    Narcissistic, to the core.
    Yes, yes she is.
    Craving the spotlight, craving the adrenaline of their eyes watching her.
    Confused? Yes,maybe, it is the affection she craves.
    To be the better of the best and to be the daisy between the rest.
    Craving, beaming, crawling, grabbing, grab the souls and put them to test.

    Be a certain type, look a certain way, her body and her mind all come down to play.
    They are laid out as different accessories, some sparkly and some a little bland.
    Call the blacksmith, this one needs to shine.
    Polish it away, wipe the ephemeral whim off its face, let the spotlight fall on it, on rusty set of chain.

    Bound by need, bound, bound to the core, she needs to rise, rise above the shore.
    Are her words too simple? Too monotonous to pay heed?
    Fix the language, fix her current deeds.
    Everybody wants her this way.

    This way, that way anything but her way.
    Even if she shows spite, they will decide her way.
    After all, she is not her if not for them.
    But why, why should she be?
    ©sayoneenandi_

  • sayoneenandi_ 115w

    I want to die in your arms.

    The thunder in my heart, frankly makes me vomit.
    It is the nonsensical blisters in my mind that make me swirl.

    Not a merry -go-round and not his arms, because those were the feelings of love and enrichment.
    And in my own flesh, I only feel detachment.

    I want to rip my skin off, and scratch my way to the heart, plunge it with a dagger because I feel that would be a good start.

    I feel I might bleed through my eyes and succumb to my mind, because candidly speaking, it would be the best sight.

    My thoughts are like little maggots, running around to find something to eat, first it was mind and now it is my heart's beat.

    They say your heart skips a beat when you look at your love, funny, I think the Lord above must have gotten it wrong.

    My heart skips a beat, not only for love, but for every scene that is created in my thoughts, bad, good and ugly.

    My thoughts have started to choke me, almost wanting me to dive to my death, but then he looks at me and pulls me close in his naked and beautiful embrace, and momentarily, I feel nothing at all.

    And that,for me is true love.

  • sayoneenandi_ 120w

    What a psychopath is, and why he behaves in that way is still a mystery. Having read over a hundred stories and seen hundreds of documentaries. I have come to the conclusion that it is the andrenaline that pushes them to do this, adrenaline of fear, anger, discomfort in their own body and most of all the insanity. A mindless disease.

    Human mind is fascinating, the further you let it roam the harder it gets to tame it.

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    "Death", he said "is lovely".

    I killed a frog and dissected each of its parts and stared at the marvellous display for hours.

    The next prey was a pigeon,each of its feathers had different colours and its eyes turned red as I smothered the remaining breath it was left with.

    So pretty was its wriled neck, twisted and curled, it was a peacock that could never lose it's worth.

    The lifeless body of a deer lay frailey in front of me, I comforted it as it shone through all its beauty.

    My murderous glee knew no bound, I killed a cat and then my heart started to pound, oh joy, so much joy.

    The bloodied hand of a psychopath revelled over his victory, that was his start to his own desultory.

    Delusioned by pleasure, he kept kept picking his prays one by one, till it stopped at the most beautiful creature of all, a human.

    Madness raved and insanity ate at him, till he drowned in the agony, agony of murderous dismay.

    "Death",he said "is lovely."
    ©sayoneenandi_

  • sayoneenandi_ 120w

    What if you stopped.

    Nights getting darker, and your touch warmer.
    Comfort and salvation of love and tranquil.
    Tranquil I say, for it is enticing the way you hold me, the way you look at me.
    Maybe, just maybe when my body is wrinkled and old, when you won't see me in the dark, when my I don't seem funny to you, not even smart,
    Will you stop?
    Loving me that is?
    What if you stopped?
    When Styx flows over my skin, it burns but it is so refreshing, my sins cleansed and my desires multiplied, oh I love you so.

    But what if you are the Styx and you see through my shallow soul and send me away, break me into pieces and burn me to ashes, oh will you love me so?

    What if the flowers I bestowed you with start to die? Oh will you love me so? Even when it is cold and everything is weary?
    What if you stopped? What if you didn't feel like starting again?
    Will you love me?
    Let's see tomorrow.
    ©sayoneenandi_

  • sayoneenandi_ 125w

    So this is the story of two girls,
    Revered by everyone, one was a princess with colours in her cloud. She walked the halls with pride, loved by everyone she was everyone's guide.
    She coloured the paths she walked in with her charm, engulfed everyone in her arms.
    The boy she doted was her trophy, trophy of her triumphant life. To everyone, they were the sparkles in each other's eyes.
    There came a day however, when the boy saw a colourless girl, a girl that camouflaged in the background of the colourful world.
    Caring for nothing and walking without a care, she seemed like the daughter of the word "despair", Though colourless, she shone on her own, like a star without colour, but like the star that took you home.
    Angered and bewildered by his attention fading, the colourful girl shoved her rival on broken shard of glass.
    Soon her world started fading, the colourful girl started to get lost.
    The boy she loved so much, was angered by her most.
    She saw the now blind girl, in the corridor trying to make sense of her life again, but not once did she ask for any help or even seek her perpetrator.
    Angered and sad, the colourful girl walked in the shadow, questioning the blind girl's will to go forward.
    That was the day, she decided she would guide the boy and the colourless girl in a path of only light, the light that she took away and left them to their plight.
    Slowly and steadily she drained her colour to colour hers, and finally she saw the girl and the boy smile in a path full of different hues as she faded from hers.
    (Copyright)@sayoneenandi_ #inspiration #diary #poetry #thoughts #life
    @poemsporn @writersnetwork @worldofwriters__ @artistryarchives @mirakeeworld @indianwriting_

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    D•R•A•I•N•E•D

  • sayoneenandi_ 132w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 3 word micro-tale on Oasis

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    Oasis and dreams

  • sayoneenandi_ 132w

    Hotch-potch

    Was sitting amidst a pile of books, reading and aspiring to be something,
    But now, suddenly a pang of uncertainty looms over, what to do now. What to do next?
    Suddenly, I am aimless again.
    The things I once liked, scare me. The things I was supposed to be good at, now I suck at them.
    What changed?
    What to do next?
    Do I run away? Or do I try once again?
    ©sayoneenandi_

  • sayoneenandi_ 143w

    Nothing.

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    Enough.

    A cup of coffee laced with addiction,
    Bitter affection to relief, relief from pain and perhaps the midnight train that I always seem to miss.
    I missed the train that night again for the millionth time but three cups down the line, I choked on my own dreams.
    Perhaps the paths I am choosing are tantalizing enough making me rather unsure of where I want to go.
    But delusional as I am, I kept feeling it was enough.
    So I chugged a little more, who says coffee is nothing like alcohol, it maybe more. Kept me awake at night when I swam across a ocean of thoughts, thoughts regarding which path to take and which to not.
    Does it seem foreign to you? Dreams and aspiration that have no meaning?
    Perhaps it is just me, dreaming without setting a foot outside the line? Is it just my tired body, or my weakened mind that is afraid to get out of the hot pot of the midnight brew, maybe I am not equipped to catch the train after all.
    ©sayoneenandi_