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There’s a novel in which I’ve been caught
But my storyline’s tied in a knot
Come villain or lover
I’m drawn to discover
The author who penciled my plot
Mandii Morbid Oct 18
Words they dance on paper, as my body loses strength.

My mind it races onwards, as my soul feels it may fade.

This pen keeps on writing, as my heart forgets to beat.

Every time I open up, another piece of me is ripped from my story.

My binding is bent and worn, with every page torn.

Once I was a fantasy, a story they could not wait to see.

As they read right through me, skimming every page-
the words for volume two, slowly came to view.

Drafts are left unfinished, the story more diminished.

Lonely ink spots, point out the unraveling plots.

I can write all on my own but I wanted to collaborate,
each new character felt like a twist of fate.

I studied every line, every single quote.
Looking for deeper meaning, but in the end it's all they wrote.

No after word, no biography-
not a single explanation as to why they never chose me.

Here's my dedication, I should always put myself first.
I am the author and the story, never unversed.

As long as my words are still written, this light inside could never be fully hidden.

Bring me home, if you want to write in permanent ink, if you won't leave me to myself.
Those that cannot understand and truly love the novel I am, then please I ask all you borrowers, just leave me on the shelf.
Luca Scarrott Oct 23
Pressed against you like paper and ink
through the rolls of a printer.
Stories read to children
to help them sleep at night.

The author’s prized creation:
solar systems of endless
chances repeated
with each bursting supernova.

We could have a sky:
habitable or raining diamonds
or the catalysts for life ready to procreate.
Chemical reactions fusing into flames.

We are a fragile anomaly
of lives and worlds colliding.
We are words printed
across this infinite universe.
The conflicting feelings of a relationship (romantic or platonic) being intentionally aligned by a creator and the coexisting feeling that your lives are part of an uncontrollable chemical reaction, and every moment is a game of chance.
Zhanara Oct 20
I drank my tear
It is not water
It is not liquid
It is sadness of the heart…
20.10.2024
Ashwin Kumar Oct 9
I stand with you, Dear Comrade
Because, always do you stand
With the oppressed
With the marginalised
With the hated
With the silenced
And finally
With the ignored!

I stand with you, Dear Comrade
Because, every time do you take the lead
When it comes to fighting against injustice
Calling out media bias
Exposing the hypocrisy of the liberals
Highlighting gender and caste issues
Blasting the central government left, right and centre
And last but not the least
Making us all feel your righteous anger!!

I stand with you, Dear Comrade
For you, does my heart bleed
Because, are you an extremely kind soul
Who cares for humanity above all
Beneath your raging passion
I can feel your sheer compassion
You've been through hell
And yet, do you stand tall
Fighting endlessly and fearlessly for social justice
And striving your hardest for peace
Without even thinking of giving up
To you, greatly do I look up!!

I stand with you, Dear Comrade
Of you, forever will I remain proud
Whenever I have a bad day
It is you, who shows me the way
During my darkest phases
It is you, in whom I find solace
Even when I am extremely negative
You provide me the motivation to be positive
May Jesus bless your beautiful soul
And may you find your inner peace, above all!!
Poem on why I will always support Dr. Meena Kandasamy - famous novelist, poetess, translator, academic, raging intersectional feminist and passionate anti-caste activist!!!
Zhanara Sep 12
I hate myself
Really
Help me please
I am crying a lot
13.09.2024
Zhanara Sep 12
The nature’s mistake is I was born.
My mistake is I am still living.
13.09.2024
Fiona Aug 18
today marks
day 903

903 days
since you’ve left.

the first day I met you
I was tiny, barely a
fragment in this universe.
You held me
and shouted,
“She has my eyes!”

days collected together
just like a dusty library.
the memories we had together
are now ink, written and
unwritten.

how can I fit
8,035 days of admiring
your soul
learning your ways
into 78,083 pages?

yet I hope
that I got it right.
the way your heart
adored the small creatures
that purred
and deferred
your pain.

the way you
radiated joy
every time
you heard thunder
echo in the distance,
lightning splitting the sky.

the way you
carried the 10 of Wands
for days upon years
and released
finally…
this lifetime.

here I hope
that one day,
all of our days
will be held
in the hands of those
that were made
from the same
stars as us.
Grief is eternal. But so is love.
I once met a man made out of steel;- but he was too afraid
To disclose all the hearts he stole, instead pointing out
All the love he had bought, as one constantly waiting for
What’s in store. The wise con artist selling out dreams
Only to lonely fools, who buy into flightless ideas-
Such tall ideas, with the promise of giving them wings

And to those he came to meet;- his very eyes carved up
Their bodies, to offer as fresh sushi; a bloodlust fishman,
Holding a charm with such impeccable practice
He spoke love’s language, with words sharp as knives
Cutting all costs, to make any love feel exorbitantly priced;

Alas I present myself to you- the author of such dreams
I am a halibut; playacting to have tough flesh underneath,
Drowning in the endless submerging feeling, of love
Swimming an entire life; sinking deeper by a heart of steel,
Still, anything that must breathe, must certainly bleed.

As when I bought a taste of love, it indeed
Tasted like my very own blood!
Zhanara Jun 21
I wanna be your angel
I wanna be your devil
I wanna be your time
I wanna be your line…
21.06.2024
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