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598 · Jan 2019
Bouquet
Karishma Yadav Jan 2019
Like a bouquet of
fresh and delicate daisies,
carefully he wrapped me up
in a red chiffon saree.
His hungry eyes traveled
from one part to another
of my covered yet bare body!
I could hear my heart beating
loudly against my rib-cage,
as if it wanted to convey a message.
The butterflies in my stomach
were gone, replaced by
a sinking feeling inside my gut.
Everything felt different but
everything looked the same!
He smiled at me and Oh boy!
My heart was melting again…
Leaving me alone
in a shabby little room,
he left promising to be back soon…
Alone with my thoughts,
quietly I sat there,
I don’t know why but every advice
mother gave echoed in my head,
I could hear my voice screaming at me
telling me to run as fast as I can.
But alone with my thoughts,
quietly I sat there,
My life came crashing down
and my nightmares turned into reality
when the door creaked open
but it wasn’t him who walked in,
but a drunk, creepy looking man.
I looked into his eyes,
his soul-piercing stare…
I didn’t know how
but I recognized that stare.
He smiled at me and God…
I knew I was dead!
I screamed, cried and yelled
but stopped when I saw
that was not going to help…
And the moment he pushed
his huge body on top of mine,
all I could see was the smiling face
that once made my heart melt…
I cried as I laid on the bed; dead…
The pain of heartbreak and betrayal
was no match to the pain of his merciless thrusts.
He moaned and groaned like an animal
as he ****** my soul and not just my ****!
That night didn’t end soon
as if the universe wanted me to suffer
for every wrong, I’ve ever done.
He came back, not exactly as promised,
But he had the same smile
plastered on his face,
mocking me and taunting me…
Why didn’t I before see his true face…?
And again, like a mangled bouquet
of decayed and dead daisies,
carefully he wrapped me up
in a torn and blood stained
red chiffon saree!

Karishma Yadav
The poem talks about a girl who has been honey-trapped by a guy into the *** trafficking (Flesh Trade) business.
Karishma Yadav May 2019
I hide suicide letters under my pillow. Letters that I wrote every time I lost a reason to live. Letters that I wrote every time I was tempted to slice open my vein; to slip into the darkness once and for all.

I have died each time I wrote a letter and I will live forever in the pain of my words and the dried stains of my tears on those aging pieces of paper.

My manicured nails are home to my anxiety, my fears. They haunt me every second of my day as they wait for the right time to come near.

I try my best and I try so hard not to listen to their murmurings that echo inside my brain. I try not to believe them when they say that I'm worthy of all the pain.

I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in my own sweat and tears. I am scared of the demons of my nightmares that now live with me and sleep in my bed.

A shiver runs down my spine whenever something good happens in my life. For I am accustomed to the feeling of loss and I'm scared if without my loneliness I'll survive.

I'm always building walls around me with the bricks of broken promises. I wonder if not trusting anyone is the only way of keeping my soul safe!

I hear echoes of sinister laughter of my God as he watches me battle with my life every second and every minute of every breath that I take. I close my eyes and I see him looking at me, enjoying every struggle that I make.

Your God might be your savior but mine is a puppet master who gets off on tragedy and heartaches. Maybe that is why all I have ever felt was the pain.

They read my poems and ask me if I'm depressed. But I don't know what to say for I'm not sure if I know the answer to their questions, I'm not sure by depression what they want me to say.

So I ask them what it feels to be depressed. Is it the never-ending void that demands to be filled with poems and stories of the pain? Or it is a stranger that makes a home inside our mind and becomes our friend?

I don't know if being happy with sadness makes any sense. But it is easier that way, to wake up in the morning not expecting to have a good day. It's comforting to set out on a journey without a hope of finding your way back home!

- Karishma Yadav
This piece is a collection of thoughts that I had in my mind while I was battling with self-hate, self-loathing, depression, etc. I still get those days and this piece keeps me going. Maybe it will help you too! Let me know what you think about it.
184 · Jan 2019
Hostage
Karishma Yadav Jan 2019
My lungs breathe in the air and breathe it out just fine
And yet I don’t understand why I am dying.
I hear people say I think too much.
Maybe it really is my thoughts
That is choking not my lungs but my mind.
But I still don’t understand why,
Why would my thoughts intoxicate me?
Leave me to rot and suffer as I wait
For my slow and never-ending fate!
Every second of my existence that passes by
I feel not just alone but lost in my own mind
No, don’t ask me to talk about it
Cuz I’ve got trust issues and I’m scared,
I’m scared of what this slow death is doing with me
Making me comfortable with the chaos hidden inside
It wants me to push everyone away,
For it wants to have me all for itself
And that is not what scares me the most,
It is a part of my own that wants to surrender.
Maybe surrendering to it is my only way out.
I am tired of listening to my thoughts,
Reminding me of everything I’ve lost,
Reminding me that I am all alone
And tell me over and over again
That embracing the chaos that lives in me
Is my last shot to survive this storm.
I am drawn towards things that cut and burn
And with the storm raging inside,
I’m not sure if I have a lot of time.
I am fighting every day,
Choking on my own breath every second
But I may also give up any minute
And maybe when my ashes are finally scattered away,
I’ll not be a hostage in my body anymore
For I’ll find my freedom,
I’ll find my solace!

Karishma Yadav
This poem talks about the mind-state of a person suffering from depression who is not aware of it. Depression is not a small issue, it has to be addressed and talked about. Spread awareness about the matter so that more and more precious lives are saved!
117 · Oct 2020
Anxiety
Karishma Yadav Oct 2020
A monster lives inside the dark bottomless pit that I have in my chest.
It feeds off of my emotions, it feeds on everything that keeps me sane.
At nights, I feel it’s hands tightly gripping around my throat.
I don’t see its face but I feel it’s evil smirk as it watches me gasp and struggle for air.
Tears run down my eyes and I scream for help. But my cries are lost like echoes bouncing in between the valleys of two mountains.
It crushes me right to my bone; until I give up and wait for it to end my misery.
But just when I close my eyes to embrace death like a dear old friend, I feel the air rushing into my shrunken lungs
And I know that it won’t let me go easy. I know, it enjoys watching me suffer.
And I’m now stuck in this loop of suffering that seems to have no end.
So I wake up every morning and cover my scars with masks that are deemed “normal” and are acceptable to the world.
I smile and laugh while the monster crushes my lungs to death every day.
I know that only one of us can survive this fight.
It’ll end with the death of the monster or with the death of me one day.
Hi. I am sorry if you find the piece disturbing. If you are fighting anxiety, self-doubt, or if you can't seem to figure out your thoughts, please seek help.

Your mental well-being should be your only priority.
If you are suffering from anxiety or any kind of mental issues, please talk to your loved ones about it. Please seek help, professional help. I have expressed my anxiety to let you know that you are not alone.

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