vandy_madireddy - Hello Poetry

She has that one breath Punctual, following the fourth tear A sharp intake - halting her heart And vanished her tears. Years of suppression, Now an addiction A cycle unbreakable A good cry hidden away. She has that one breath Ironically killing her She wished she didn’t Breathe that one breath. Last or not She didn’t care That one breath She could go without.

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Aug 3, 2020

Aug 3, 2020 at 5:30 PM UTC

That One Breath

She has that one breath Punctual, following the fourth tear A sharp intake - halting her heart And vanished her tears. Years of suppression, Now an addiction A cycle unbreakable A good cry hidden away. She has that one breath Ironically killing her She wished she didn’t Breathe that one breath. Last or not She didn’t care That one breath She could go without.

16

I want to ask you about Love. When I say ‘love’ I mean real life love, not the heart racing, clichéd romance. I want to know how you know it’s love. I watch a lot of crime shows, documentaries and other stuff. So much so that there’s a bell that goes off every time I’m anywhere near “love.” Then there is the love that we feel for others in our life. The love for your parents, siblings, friends and pets. I still fail to understand what love is and when and how to know if it’s real. I don’t know if I love my parents. I miss them everyday, talk to them everyday, yet when I’m with them, I can’t wait to get away. It’s the same with everyone else. Is that what love is? Is that how being in love feels? If it is, I don’t know how I feel. And if it isn’t, then do I not love the people around me? Does that mean the “I Love You’s” I throw around so carelessly are empty? What if I do not find someone I truly love? What if I find someone I love like I love the people around me? I don’t know which it is I hope is true. How can I choose between being the person who couldn’t love the people she is closest to or the person who can’t stand to live with the person she loves? Girl.

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Dec 30, 2018

Dec 30, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC

Hey There,

I want to ask you about Love. When I say ‘love’ I mean real life love, not the heart racing, clichéd romance. I want to know how you know it’s love. I watch a lot of crime shows, documentaries and other stuff. So much so that there’s a bell that goes off every time I’m anywhere near “love.” Then there is the love that we feel for others in our life. The love for your parents, siblings, friends and pets. I still fail to understand what love is and when and how to know if it’s real. I don’t know if I love my parents. I miss them everyday, talk to them everyday, yet when I’m with them, I can’t wait to get away. It’s the same with everyone else. Is that what love is? Is that how being in love feels? If it is, I don’t know how I feel. And if it isn’t, then do I not love the people around me? Does that mean the “I Love You’s” I throw around so carelessly are empty? What if I do not find someone I truly love? What if I find someone I love like I love the people around me? I don’t know which it is I hope is true. How can I choose between being the person who couldn’t love the people she is closest to or the person who can’t stand to live with the person she loves? Girl.

21

The night fall, like a predator, Scares me to stay awake, Not a blink of sleep, But abundant tears, Most of which are reluctant, To fall, to escape, Like me they too are afraid. The dawn however, Lures me back to sleep, Like a sweet melodious lullaby, Taking away all my worries, Like my mom who sings it, The nightmares that follow, Rob me off my trust. The rude awakening of, Phone calls from my parents, Every mid-afternoon, Leaves me with a blinding headache, A churning stomach, A racing heart, a breaking soul, Snatching my innocence. The hungry calls of my sister, Drags me into every evening, Cooking for dinner, the following, Day’s breakfast and lunch, Chop and cooking urging me To cut my fingers or burn my palms, Leaving me too weak to go through.

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Oct 14, 2018

Oct 14, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC

Prosy Life of a Hurting Girl

The night fall, like a predator, Scares me to stay awake, Not a blink of sleep, But abundant tears, Most of which are reluctant, To fall, to escape, Like me they too are afraid. The dawn however, Lures me back to sleep, Like a sweet melodious lullaby, Taking away all my worries, Like my mom who sings it, The nightmares that follow, Rob me off my trust. The rude awakening of, Phone calls from my parents, Every mid-afternoon, Leaves me with a blinding headache, A churning stomach, A racing heart, a breaking soul, Snatching my innocence. The hungry calls of my sister, Drags me into every evening, Cooking for dinner, the following, Day’s breakfast and lunch, Chop and cooking urging me To cut my fingers or burn my palms, Leaving me too weak to go through.

28

My sketch pad, new, empty, unpainted in, Was somewhere under the pile of stuff, It’s almost lost, just like my inspiration, I know where it is, I can point at it, Just can’t reach it, catch it, box it up in me. The half empty paint bottles are scattered on the floor, Right next to the incomplete portrait, The portrait of the real me, Pieces missing, face devoid of emotions, Messing me up, pushing me back into the darkness. The rain pouring, clearing off the dirt, On the windows and the world outside, While I hope something similar happens, So my insides are cleared, opening me up, To possibility, to success and failures. I missed out on a lot of things, The beauty of the nature, of people, In happiness, in helping, in kindness, Something my irritation, frustration and annoyance, Shielded, perfectly, keeping me out. The day the portrait is completed, Is the day I move on, the day I open myself, The happiest day, the brightest day, The beginning to my forever, that’s seems lost, My one true dream!

0

Sep 20, 2018

Sep 20, 2018 at 10:14 AM UTC

Sketch Pad

My sketch pad, new, empty, unpainted in, Was somewhere under the pile of stuff, It’s almost lost, just like my inspiration, I know where it is, I can point at it, Just can’t reach it, catch it, box it up in me. The half empty paint bottles are scattered on the floor, Right next to the incomplete portrait, The portrait of the real me, Pieces missing, face devoid of emotions, Messing me up, pushing me back into the darkness. The rain pouring, clearing off the dirt, On the windows and the world outside, While I hope something similar happens, So my insides are cleared, opening me up, To possibility, to success and failures. I missed out on a lot of things, The beauty of the nature, of people, In happiness, in helping, in kindness, Something my irritation, frustration and annoyance, Shielded, perfectly, keeping me out. The day the portrait is completed, Is the day I move on, the day I open myself, The happiest day, the brightest day, The beginning to my forever, that’s seems lost, My one true dream!

25

I feared the unknown, Of who’s going to pop out when, Who’s going to **** who, These TV shows frighten me no more. I watch it day and night, I see them rip out throats and hearts, The blood gushing out from everything, I don’t look away, but stare right into the screen. I was scared of the dark, The ghost behind me, under the bed, Or someone ready to attack, misbehave, I don’t look back anymore. I walk alone all the time, In a crowd and in deserted hallways, Mind flashing glossy grave-like images, Never fearing pain and death. Monsters chased me, Molesters haunted me, Now I fear neither, instead I wonder, Would I even cry and beg for them to spare me? I don’t fear it, respect it, value it, My death, my life, pain nor happiness, I feel no joy, no tears, nothing, Why would I want to be spared then?

0

Sep 15, 2018

Sep 15, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC

Would I?

I feared the unknown, Of who’s going to pop out when, Who’s going to **** who, These TV shows frighten me no more. I watch it day and night, I see them rip out throats and hearts, The blood gushing out from everything, I don’t look away, but stare right into the screen. I was scared of the dark, The ghost behind me, under the bed, Or someone ready to attack, misbehave, I don’t look back anymore. I walk alone all the time, In a crowd and in deserted hallways, Mind flashing glossy grave-like images, Never fearing pain and death. Monsters chased me, Molesters haunted me, Now I fear neither, instead I wonder, Would I even cry and beg for them to spare me? I don’t fear it, respect it, value it, My death, my life, pain nor happiness, I feel no joy, no tears, nothing, Why would I want to be spared then?

24

I walked into a church today, One I wanted to visit for days, I passed by it, saw the huge doors open Inviting me in daily, but I just didn’t go in. I’m a Hindu by religion, Indian by birth, I have an older sister, My mom and my dad obviously. Why am I telling you this? Well because I’m everything but Happy, calm and sorted, Just angry, irritated and anxious. They fight, my mom and dad, They love each other, or maybe they don’t, But they fight and argue, They don’t hold back on concern either. They talk a lot, my sister and him, The guy she’s seeing but not dating, The guy she’s serious about but hasn’t met, She’s always on the phone, sharing every bit of her life. I entered the church, Felt nothing, felt the same as usual, No excitement, disappointment, nothing, Temples don’t help either. I love my family, they love me back, They care and support me, a lot! I don’t want it most of the times, It both keeps me alive and suffocates me. They are always there, Standing right by me, If not in person, then by spirit, Always a call away. I talk to them every day, thrice, Twice at least, message my whereabouts, It’s a habit, a want, a need To let them know everything about me. They are fighting now, I got an email this time, Not a phone call, nor message, Mom lied, that she’s got her migraine. Dad’s left the family WhatsApp group, Blamed it on the work stress, But I know better, we all do, I may be the youngest, but I’m 20. My sister’s fed up with me, Well she’s not the only one, I shout, scream, screech rudely, Loudly, with no sane reason. I know I need help, We all do, for anger, To love and feel loved, But it’s never going to happen. I am a psychology student, I want to let the world know, With my research that depression and anxiety, Can’t be beat with medicines nor by expressing. My sister’s a Human Rights student, Who wants to help people, Support and care for them, You can’t, nothing will end human suffering. We are the sole cause of it, Human suffering, the ones with fuel, The ones with the extinguisher, Yet, each time we choose poorly. My family is broken, ******* up, It’s surviving on a thin string, But it won’t break, ever, We’ll all just drift apart.

0

Sep 7, 2018

Sep 7, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC

Family

I walked into a church today, One I wanted to visit for days, I passed by it, saw the huge doors open Inviting me in daily, but I just didn’t go in. I’m a Hindu by religion, Indian by birth, I have an older sister, My mom and my dad obviously. Why am I telling you this? Well because I’m everything but Happy, calm and sorted, Just angry, irritated and anxious. They fight, my mom and dad, They love each other, or maybe they don’t, But they fight and argue, They don’t hold back on concern either. They talk a lot, my sister and him, The guy she’s seeing but not dating, The guy she’s serious about but hasn’t met, She’s always on the phone, sharing every bit of her life. I entered the church, Felt nothing, felt the same as usual, No excitement, disappointment, nothing, Temples don’t help either. I love my family, they love me back, They care and support me, a lot! I don’t want it most of the times, It both keeps me alive and suffocates me. They are always there, Standing right by me, If not in person, then by spirit, Always a call away. I talk to them every day, thrice, Twice at least, message my whereabouts, It’s a habit, a want, a need To let them know everything about me. They are fighting now, I got an email this time, Not a phone call, nor message, Mom lied, that she’s got her migraine. Dad’s left the family WhatsApp group, Blamed it on the work stress, But I know better, we all do, I may be the youngest, but I’m 20. My sister’s fed up with me, Well she’s not the only one, I shout, scream, screech rudely, Loudly, with no sane reason. I know I need help, We all do, for anger, To love and feel loved, But it’s never going to happen. I am a psychology student, I want to let the world know, With my research that depression and anxiety, Can’t be beat with medicines nor by expressing. My sister’s a Human Rights student, Who wants to help people, Support and care for them, You can’t, nothing will end human suffering. We are the sole cause of it, Human suffering, the ones with fuel, The ones with the extinguisher, Yet, each time we choose poorly. My family is broken, ******* up, It’s surviving on a thin string, But it won’t break, ever, We’ll all just drift apart.

68

I go to sleep every night, Promising to make tomorrow better, To do all that I want to Better myself and my life, And allow myself to be happy.  I wake up each morning, Once again, making the same Hollow promises as last night, To make everything right tomorrow, Each time failing to act on it.  Every afternoon following, Leaves me drained, Irritated and frustrated, Begging and praying to the God, I don’t seem to believe in anymore. Every sip of my evening coffee, Brings through my head, Ideas to express myself, To know my self and help, Baseless promise with it.

0

Aug 4, 2018

Aug 4, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC

Every Part Of The Day

I go to sleep every night, Promising to make tomorrow better, To do all that I want to Better myself and my life, And allow myself to be happy.  I wake up each morning, Once again, making the same Hollow promises as last night, To make everything right tomorrow, Each time failing to act on it.  Every afternoon following, Leaves me drained, Irritated and frustrated, Begging and praying to the God, I don’t seem to believe in anymore. Every sip of my evening coffee, Brings through my head, Ideas to express myself, To know my self and help, Baseless promise with it.

20

One, Two, Three She cuts with the blade. Four, Five, Six “You need help,” they said. Seven, Eight, Nine “We are here for you,” they said. Ten, Eleven, Twelve “You’ll get through this,” they said. Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen Where were they all this time? Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen Why didn’t they notice before? Nineteen, Twenty “Why now?” She screamed. As she broke down Crying with guilt For tearing the paper into shreds Instead of her own skin.

0

Jul 29, 2018

Jul 29, 2018 at 7:38 AM UTC

Count It Out!

One, Two, Three She cuts with the blade. Four, Five, Six “You need help,” they said. Seven, Eight, Nine “We are here for you,” they said. Ten, Eleven, Twelve “You’ll get through this,” they said. Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen Where were they all this time? Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen Why didn’t they notice before? Nineteen, Twenty “Why now?” She screamed. As she broke down Crying with guilt For tearing the paper into shreds Instead of her own skin.

18

Her heart swelled, gut wrenched A splitting head ache took over her worried mind, Eyes burning with unshed tears, It was happening again, The same feeling she felt, Like getting lost alone in a desert, Or stuck alone anywhere, Alone but among strangers, All because she felt over-looked, Again, for the hundredth time this month, By friends, family and even strangers. Her hands shivered, Legs wobbled, Knees almost giving out, As she carefully walked out, Away from the celebrations and cheers, The same that felt utterly lonely, The one that felt panicky, She was lost, On her way to recovery, She got lost again in the darkness, the jealousies, The feeling of being forgotten, drew her away from All the brights in her life, straight into the black, She strayed from the dream to live peacefully.

0

Jul 25, 2018

Jul 25, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC

Strayed Away

Her heart swelled, gut wrenched A splitting head ache took over her worried mind, Eyes burning with unshed tears, It was happening again, The same feeling she felt, Like getting lost alone in a desert, Or stuck alone anywhere, Alone but among strangers, All because she felt over-looked, Again, for the hundredth time this month, By friends, family and even strangers. Her hands shivered, Legs wobbled, Knees almost giving out, As she carefully walked out, Away from the celebrations and cheers, The same that felt utterly lonely, The one that felt panicky, She was lost, On her way to recovery, She got lost again in the darkness, the jealousies, The feeling of being forgotten, drew her away from All the brights in her life, straight into the black, She strayed from the dream to live peacefully.

22

She fell in love for the first time, With the guy who shared her mother-tongue, She felt every emotion towards him, The way the leads of the Romantic movies felt, She got lost in his conversations, Over thinked everything, She got up, thinking of him, Slept, dreaming about him. Her fragile heart cracked, When her best friend confessed to liking him, The friend who made a card for valentines, While she forgot, lost in her thoughts, Her best friend, who had a the courage to, Confess her feelings to his face, Holding out the card hopefully, While she stood rooted, broken. She felt her heart break for the first time, Just like the female lead did, When he accepted her best friends card, And kissed her cheek with a toothy grin, All while they were happy and she was sad, As if nothing happened, she gave a smile, Joining into the group.

0

Jul 22, 2018

Jul 22, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC

Love and Heartbreaks

She fell in love for the first time, With the guy who shared her mother-tongue, She felt every emotion towards him, The way the leads of the Romantic movies felt, She got lost in his conversations, Over thinked everything, She got up, thinking of him, Slept, dreaming about him. Her fragile heart cracked, When her best friend confessed to liking him, The friend who made a card for valentines, While she forgot, lost in her thoughts, Her best friend, who had a the courage to, Confess her feelings to his face, Holding out the card hopefully, While she stood rooted, broken. She felt her heart break for the first time, Just like the female lead did, When he accepted her best friends card, And kissed her cheek with a toothy grin, All while they were happy and she was sad, As if nothing happened, she gave a smile, Joining into the group.

23