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The greatest betrayal?

When the positivity-giver isn’t so
positive themselves. When the light
they hand out doesn’t reach their
own shadow.

Belief in self-worth— they say it’s
your shell. But I haven’t found the
pearl that fits my shape.

Still liquid—I form myself to every
room, shape my smile to fit their
forecast. These tears? Not weakness.
Just soil erosion.

Washing away what held me—
leaving me bare, unready for tomorrow’s
weight. Like the trampled flower—
I’m not phased. I remember the feet
that pressed me into the same ground
I bloomed from.

I haven’t forgotten all those soles
that stepped on my feat.
Pictures of my present— but none of them smile back.
Just me, talking to the man in the mirror,
    his eyes tired,
          his silence loud.

He stands in the frame, wrapped in skins made of fear—
To stand tall beneath the titles they gave him;
layered, worn,
  worn down.


To call it strength when you pretend to be more than you are.
But no one asks what it costs to keep holding up the
image they’ve
        painted of you.

I want to stop performing, but giving up feels like giving in
to everything they already believe about me, there's never an
account for the fallen man—
        only fingers pointed,
  as they count him out like a statistic.


I think about a demise so often it no longer shocks me.
It just waits—patiently— like something I’ve already
   shaken hands with,
    gripped by time pressing on me.

Sometimes I feel like I’m boiling alive, my chest
cracking open with a salty crunch, like a crab
   in a sealed ***—
    no escape, just steam and pressure.


A slow, bitter truth: no one’s turning the heat down.
And all I can say is—
   “Crap.”
     Not funny. Not light.
Just the word that stumbles out when your soul folds
in on itself and even pain doesn’t know
how to explain itself anymore.
anuj 5d
I had friends — but never knew why.  
I laughed with them… but still felt shy.  
They smiled, I smiled — but I stood apart,  
They were close in distance, but far in heart.  

I saw them enjoy, and I enjoyed too.  
Those were moments I wish I still knew.  
They were just three steps away —  
Yet I felt like I had drifted astray.  

It’s like they’re present,  
And I became past.  
We had good talks…  
But they didn’t last.  

I had friends.  
But now they’re lost.
They never hurt me. They just… forgot me. And that’s what hurts the most.
This one’s for those friendships that faded without a sound.
Arna Jun 9
She was a simple girl.
A kind, happy going, compassionate and a talented one.
Over thinking was her hobby.
Taking pain was common for her.
She valued people more than self…
And received pain more than she deserved!!
She smiled through the ache, loved without limits, and lost more than anyone ever saw. Some hearts break quietly… yet beautifully.
Arna May 20
Sometimes, we can’t do anything but to just
sit and miss them.
Sometimes, it’s better to
just hide all your emotions in your tiny heart.
Sometimes, opting for silence
is the best option in all situations.
Sometimes, a comforting embrace
is enough to heal you when sympathetic words doesn’t.
Sometimes, all you crave for is a hand on your shoulder
or a shoulder to lie
or a person to hear you and comfort you
when you feel low
than having the whole family to console you.
Not every pain needs words.
Not every tear needs an audience.
Sometimes, silence understands more than sympathy.
Sometimes, all the heart asks for is a quiet presence —
a touch, a glance, a gentle reminder that we’re not alone.
And in those tender moments, healing begins.
"Sometimes, silence is the loudest cry for comfort."
Asher Graves May 15
I wish I could cry, but I feel no tears.
I wish I could try—just slowly speak my mind clear.
I wish I didn’t have to explain myself every time I feel fear.
I believed those who know me would understand—
but that was a failure.

Here I am, sitting in quiet despair,
while a stranger understands my dilemma—
and no words were exchanged there.
                                                                   -Asher Graves
I wrote this piece while reading a poem on Wattpad by lina_ledovskaya. Her writing really struck a chord with me—raw, emotional, and beautifully crafted. If you haven’t read her work yet, I highly recommend checking it out. You won’t regret it.
Stardust Apr 18
I am a Prisoner.
Prisoned in the cage of expectations and social order.
Perhaps that’s why I long so deeply for solidarity.
But these chains won’t break—no matter how hard I try.
They feel eternal, their grip unwavering and cold.
A silent rebellion against invisible chains.
KindyGifty Mar 7
When you look at my eyes,
What stories do they tell?
What movie do you see?
A land deserted by people,
Or a river overflowing with waters?
What does my eyes reveal?
They whisper a story—
A story of pain.
Pain in my soul,
Jabbing my heart mercilessly,
Leaving me to tend my wounds,
Making me vulnerable.
Look into my eyes and tell me—
What do you see?
I am not what I show you.
I am not what I act.
I am not what I speak.
I am the pain in my eyes,
The scars in my heart.
Stare deep into my soul.
Let me show you who I am,
The me you never see.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
I. Glass & Ghosts
Writing my name in a mirror of breath,
watching it vanish like I was never here.
Flesh remembers what time forgets,
but the winter smiles—
as if it knows something I don’t.

II. Streets & Scars
The city hums with untold stories,
where fathers are echoes
and lovers are lost in the fog.
Blind footsteps, heavy with fate,
scars rise like prayers in the wind.

III. Fire & Falling
Lungs filled with the weight of old wars,
teeth clenched against regret’s bite.
Stars don’t whisper,
they scream.
And some nights, I swear,
they burn just for me.

IV. Midnight & Memory
The river carries reflections of ghosts,
the moon is a silent witness.
Some things break quietly.
Some things burn forever.
Charan P Jan 10
One day, you wake up
and you’re not you anymore.
You look in the mirror,
but the eyes are empty,
like someone else is living there.

You didn’t notice it happening,
how you gave away pieces of yourself
just to fit, just to please.
A thousand small moments,
a smile you didn’t mean,
a “yes” when you screamed “no” inside.

You thought you were strong.
But you let them carve you down,
chisel by chisel,
until there’s nothing left but the shell
of who you used to be.

It doesn’t happen all at once.
It’s the slowest kind of death,
the kind where you’re still breathing,
but you’re gone.

And the worst part?
You did it to yourself.
Not with a knife,
but with silence,
with pretending,
with forgetting what you’re worth—
until one day,
you can’t even remember
who you used to be.

you’ve lost track of who you were —
a shadow,
a stranger in your own reflection.

you’ve erased the memory
of who you were,
now lost to the emptiness
you created.
~to find meaning..to find a reason..just one..to exist.

— The End —