#silentpain
his internal screams –
is the world’s external peace
the crash-out man…
breaks silently.
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 5:36 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel this tugging at my heart.
It's weird cause I haven't felt anything in a while.
I hate that tugging.
I know it's trying to revive itself,
but I don't want it to.
Whenever I come across a memory
It jumps,
as if its trying to say
"Remember? Remember?"
I lie and tell it
"No, now shut up."
It's just better if it remains silent.
Of course it doesn't get that
Nope there it is
Jumping.
Tugging.
Can't you see I am lifeless?
Of course not
the heart doesn't have eyes
Unfortunately.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
Question paper made of unread clues
wrapped in gold,
memories treasure answers in every practiced fold.
Brain races, tiny heart acquired the power to face,
how do we know pain is carved and open to trace?
Dreadful exam floats in mind like the end of the world.
A little one Smiles bright as sunlight,
ink shapes the pages,
golden answers shine bright.
Fluttering hope
“Maybe tomorrow will be easy, I am learning how to cope.”
Tomorrow never came,
I met with unknown rain.
“You copied, cheater!” says the great authority.
Heart becomes a sea of pain,
one sentence I wish my ears had never claimed.
Predatory smiles, satisfied smirks
burn me into ashes.
Under sunlight I never cry,
yet I flood my lashes,
invisible innocence like the erased pencil’s mark,
unseen by the eyes made of dark.
Still proof comes like the sunlight,
but a heart gets lost in night.
Sorrowful humiliation, no apology still stings as ice.
If you are wrong, don't care to admit and apologize?
Proof needs to prove
How clever abuse!
Why society doesn't need proof to accuse?
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 1:49 AM UTC
Break time clatters, clinks,
Where the whiteboard pauses to think.
Most precious time
Pitter-patter, laughter, and crunches of chips,
Praying for the end bell to never ring.
Loud chatter and happy gossip,
Being humble and quiet within backbiting rhyme,
Becomes a universal crime.
There is a ruler in every single classroom kingdom,
Kindness is never met like the sympathy of home.
Cruel rehearsals practiced in every break time,
A free verse within a sad rhyme.
A bottle cap became a terror,
Rolling every time intentionally on the white floor.
“Pick it up! Pumpkin should do it to lose some weight~
For good, don’t be late.”
So many audience, grasping the best scene
Why are growing pupils so mean?
Knees hit the floor
Authority and power
Shrink my back more and more.
Why do we come here to learn?
Bright walls lose their fun.
Every day, rehearsals of cruelty,
Kids misuse the light of authority.
Overlooked shadows teachers forget to catch,
That’s how the world finds its future cruel match.
No one stands for justice,
One against a crowd seems hectic.
Power stands on a silent pulse, frantic,
Within countless pages and books of heavy load
Why was this lesson never on the board?
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 3:00 PM UTC
I tell myself I’m strong,
a fortress built from words,
“Leave him behind, move on,”
I chant, a prayer to numb the hurt.
But then I see his face,
and the walls crumble,
memories crawl through the cracks,
each one a shadow I cannot shake.
I say I don’t feel,
I wear the mask of indifference,
but inside, the ache whispers,
“Remember. You remember everything.”
I lie to myself for safety,
pretending pain is a stranger,
yet it lingers in the corners,
soft and sharp,
a ghost I cannot exorcise.
I am strong, yes,
but strength is not absence of hurt
it is carrying it quietly,
alone, and still choosing to live.
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 11:41 AM UTC
I was never the popular girl —
always the outcast,
the one who never fit in any group,
always the girl
they ran from like the plague.
You have no idea
how painful it is to speak
and your friends go silent.
It’s like you don’t belong
in their world.
Why am I always
the unlovable one?
Why is it so hard to belong?
Why is it so easy for them —
and so hard for me?
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 12:28 PM UTC
the well stays sealed.
Pain turns to fire,
fire hardens to rage.
I wear anger as skin,
because sorrow is forbidden.
Aug 22, 2025
Aug 22, 2025 at 2:54 AM UTC
The wind caressed the flower, swaying its petals, and danced with it.
It whispered the tale of mountains, valleys, and plains, making the flower smell sweeter and shine brighter .
But suddenly one day, it struck the flower harder and caused it to wither off.
A beautiful story laid with harmony, but ended with agony.
The wind can cause the flower to flutter or fall off; it chose the latter, why?
Again, the wind blew a thousand times, but there was no flower to flutter or fall off.
This void sounded louder than any bulbul's song.
Has it stopped the wind from blowing?
Is the flower not worthy to exist?
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 9:22 AM UTC
She seemed like someone who I was looking for my whole life,
But who knew she was like something we call a knife.
Each day I watch her walk with him, a silent scar,
Smiling like moonlight, yet feeling so far.
And here I stay—cut by hope, from just behind the bar.
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 9:19 PM UTC
The most misunderstood, misfelt, and underrated feeling.
Water flowing from eyes can never be fake.
It could be from happiness,
Can be with grief,
Can be out of jealous,
And can be through overwhelm.
The reason may be anything,
But they can never be fake.
They hold valuable expressions
Which words in dictionary too fail.
They carry the pain,
Unexpressed emotions,
And more.
Tears are misunderstood
For being weak, sensitive, and over-emotional.
But they are not in true sense.
One can never judge the value of tears.
They make heavy hearts lighter.
Hidden suffers heal.
They make expressions visible.
Make the situation intact.
Never look low of tears,
And the one who lets them flow freely,
Than to submerged them fearing judgements.
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 7:25 AM UTC
__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.
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC
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.
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 6:37 PM UTC
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.
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 2:04 AM UTC
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!!
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 2:49 AM UTC
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.
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 12:46 AM UTC
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
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 6:18 PM UTC
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.
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 11:49 AM UTC
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.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 2:56 AM UTC
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.
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 11:10 AM UTC
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.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 1:01 AM UTC