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  Jan 2019 nim
Abhijeeth
Do you know about the color blue?
It is in the sky and in me too.
Disguising itself as the color of calm,
in the river held back by a dam,
always in the background, in neglect,
blue hits me when I least expect.

The color of calm has a hidden side,
waiting for me to get tongue tied.
Silence is blue's favorite pastime,
tried to fight him with music and a rhyme,
blue is good in color only,
he haunts me whenever I am lonely.

A bit of advice from me to you,
advice about the demon blue.
Don't listen to the voices in your head,
don't let the color tie you to your bed,
I know it's tough to fight the blue,
I want you to know I believe in you,
don't let this story be about blue,
take it back, it's time you flew,
don't let this blue color define you,
look in the mirror and say f*ck you blue.
This poem is about depression and my fight with it. I compare it to a river waiting to burst through a dam, always lurking in the background, waiting for a chance to make me feel miserable. Music and poems have been my release from it. I end the poem by asking the reader to fight it with all their strength if he/she ever faces it, because the only way to survive this demon is by not giving into it.
nim Jan 2019
constant aching in my chest
and i can't seem to help it
constant pain, physically felt
brought from the inside of my head
days feel long, days feel short
it's a sand hourglass constantly twisted
but each of them brings pain,
indecisiveness;
each of them is always
the same
in the unique,
painful
way
nim Nov 2018
The borderline of chaos, the imaginary bliss of hell.
I sit in my garden with the wind speaking in my ear, ever so softly;
The leaves are waving and dancing on the wind, following an endless masquerade.
And I am a part of it as well - the mask
I'm wearing grew in on my face, and
I can't seem to take it off.
Just like them, I'm following the seemingly meaningless parade.

The sun has hit low bottom and the day is no more, all to be seen is the flashback of the better days,
with the same orange sky.
Sitting under the same tree.
Yet with every second, the leaves are closer to crumbling and stumbling across an obstacle.
But not you.
You've already hit rock bottom.
And your end is coming near.
But for the first time, after so many tries because you've been convinced otherwise, you catch a glimpse of something.
A light in this melancholy and agony.
The end is near, yet there is more to come.
For you, you've tried your best.

And it's the only thing that ever counts.
  Nov 2018 nim
Ciel Noir
The Moon and stars
They shine so bright
Deep in the night
I keep their light
How beautiful they seem to me
I wish that everyone could see
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