On these nights I feel consumed
It's a terrible time to be alive
I wish I never existed
How shallow the emotions are
The happy don't make me happy
The sad don't ****
I mask the shallowness with tricks
It's fine to be assumed
How intricate to be unamused
On these nights I feel heavy
Consumed by the doubts and thoughts
Numbed by the explosions of emotions
The idiocy of rumors shining hard on the mirrors
It's not helped by overthinking
Creating holes and puddles that **** in
Souls and sleeps from within
How pretentious is this ruining
On these nights I say nothing
Moons come and go
Capture praise and envy
settling alone in the dark
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 5:04 AM UTC
Someday it will hurt you
Harder than it does today
More than you thought it would
You will not have much to say
The deeper you tear me down
The farther I'll take you to hell
The more it soothes your blood
The harder you will burn in there
Stop smiling and ignoring
For it does matter in both our lives
Let it pass now
But you will feel the warmth of fire
When my memories lit out the spark in your mind
And my touch seems like a reminiscing wine
Come closer and breath heavier
Cause it will take you down with ash
My memories will no longer sooth you instead
They will **** you silently
Watch out for all the scars you give me
I will return them back rightly
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
Day by day we cut our talks
word by word,
every day a word short
late night long chats
to one word nod
a sea of explanations
to a drop of glance
nothing more changes
except for the undecided timings
of hanging on the phone,
the unsaid goodnight
at the end of the chat
in the pool of thousands before,
Maybe we have learned to decipher the unsent messages
Maybe we have learned to read between the spaces
Because there’s so much for us to say
but we already know it all
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC
I am crumbled like a paper with inadequate poetry and disowned words.
I am the bad poetry that you hear from an amateur. The one that lacks litery expertise. The one that doesn’t know enough metaphors. The one that fails to rhyme. The one with broken lines. The one that swallows millions stories into a line. The one that need more expertise to be understood than to express. The one that overspills yet fits into mouth just fine. The one you wouldn’t understand. Ever. The one I couldn’t explain to you. Never. The one you would probably hear and dislike at once.
The one that you would hate.
I am that peotry.
That is short of a melody.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 6:33 AM UTC
When I pull off those strangled lines
I try to hold right and tight my emotions
that I might lose one day
while having a cheap wine
my paragraphs were meant to sneak
inside your heart
and resonate the message I scream
for you to know what makes me fall apart
but some words are meant to be felt
not explained or
to make sense to either.
They exist just to exists
for the sake of a tear I lost while hiding in the washroom,
sometimes complimenting sometimes substituting
One day, the strangled words will make sense
One day, It will all be explained
Long after I am gone, untangle my words and talk to them.
They will talk to you.
I promise.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 7:15 AM UTC
There was hidden poet in there
filled with misery
concealed safely
behind the smile
tucked in tight
that looses itself at night
beautifying the misery of life
in rhymes and sonnets
calligraphed in blue and black
immortalizing the sorrow
on the sheets that shout in silence
through the words
that couldn’t help him
while
he was alive
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
Oh you slippery childhood
now that I have grasped you in the memories as an adult
i realized you slipped from time
leaving the stamps of scars from your slipping tripping and falling
Oh i remember you well
we were charming and happy once
until you lost to the world as
you slipped so many times
every time like some unvalued dime
you slipped as your uncle's hand slipped in your skirt
and then the shirt
you were already fallen and hurt
until you realized that this game was tough for a girl so young
you slipped as the grades slipped from your school report
and again when the mother's tongue slipped with disappointment
you were already torn apart
until you realized that you slipped once more
you slipped once again
when the cloaked words of your street romeo slipped from his tongue
as he announced the things he wanted to do with you from across the street
your eyes were already shamed
until you realized that you slipped once more
you slipped again
when math teacher became harder than math
as he tried to tuck those stare behind the unsolved problems
you were already down on the floor
as you slipped once more
you slipped again
when you wore the black coat with teary eyes
and won the case nullifying your parent's divorce
you slipped from me
but you were already too broken to be mended again
as you slipped a little harder
oh you slippery childhood
you played hopscotch behind the curtains
and cycled me through the springs
you grew a lot more
until i realized you slipped once more
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
Blank papers
Red Inks
and You
feelings overflowing the dams
short of words to spills the oceans
I dive into
sun stained in love
yet no rhymes to capture the sunshine
you bestow upon me
an integral part of my life
you are, love of my life
but I find no words to describe the feelings
that I hold for you firmly in a fist
clenched strongly
for still I lack expertise
in love
in life
in poems
nightmares of which letting go
ruining my days
yet comforted by the last night texts
this ocean is deep, isn't it?
In which I'm ready to drown
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
Life isn’t beautiful enough
to be contained in poetry.
*But poetries are melancholic enough
to contain sadness and joy of life
in the same line
in few words*
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 4:45 AM UTC