23 posts
  • veloc1ty_ 33w

    To think of you at this hour with this drink in my hand is to invite a dire crisis upon myself wherein every thought would lead my feet toward the kitchen stand where the knife rests. Hence begins the urge to slit open a nerve to see if it hurts as much as your silence.

    The clock ticking furiously above my bedroom door reads the anxiousness off my face and asks me to wait for a few minutes; For its minute hand to travel past the 10min mark. All in anticipation of this magical 11:11 wishing fest, I apply brakes to my vicious thoughts.

    With five mins left for 11:11, I start thinking beforehand of all the things I can cram up in between 11:11:01 and 11:11:59. My mind runs around at every corner in search of the things I'm lacking; Things that I am in dire need of and are nowhere around me.

    Finally, 11:11 it screams,
    And ask away, it says.

    I blank out. I trip and fall over my own feet. So do my thoughts. My eyes bounce off the thoughts which are scattered everywhere on the floor. I start gathering them in my arms but they keep slipping off my fingers like the beautiful memories I lost to date.

    I reach towards the end of 11:11.
    Near the last ten seconds, the clock looks at me and starts pacing.

    I close my eyes and spell out the first thing that comes to my mind; your face, with a huge smile hanging from your lips.

    The words that left my mouth in those last few seconds:
    "I wish to see your face glow with the light of a thousand smiles, with me or without me by your side."


    The art on the BG is by Valeria Lakrisenko

    Thank you for the kind repost :") ❤ @writersnetwork

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  • veloc1ty_ 41w

    I trace a late night walk along the curved sandy shore while the sea is roaring in my face. The sand gathered around my feet hugs it tightly to get a free ride along with me. The dying cigarette dangling from my fingers burns with the intensity of a thousand suns. When I press it between my teeth, and inhale the smoke it has to offer, it bathes the whole shore in light before I pull it out again. A million stars and the singular moon sitting afar watch me with sheer excitement as I spend my night putting on a show for them. But even with a million and one eyes watching me, I don't get nervous. I've been doing this for quite a while now. Everynight I arrive here and see them filed into that huge theatre, with their eyes pressed against my face, waiting patiently to watch me shine, weep and eventually fade away.

    @writersnetwork Ty for the kind repost :")❤️

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  • veloc1ty_ 44w

    #quest #wod
    Thank you @writersnetwork for the kind repost ;_;❤
    I love you too. ����❤❤

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    I inhale and my faith is regurgitated
    Hopes that I swallowed blindly
    In the name of false promises
    Come out pouring and form a puddle of mess

    Coz being an optimist is indeed toxic
    Not being able to grieve my mistakes
    has lead me to believe I've committed none
    So everytime I suffer a setback
    I erase them slyly from my sentience
    in hopes of getting better

    But like a connection of beads
    dancing on threadbare of hope.
    I've been living moments at the mercy of winds.
    I've been living by the strengths of what's written in my fate.
    And for the moments
    that possibly won't appear again

    Coz the winds have managed to
    cut through the thin thread
    Eachtime my buried problems have resurfaced
    And I've lost the grip on my emotions
    I've fallen apart
    Like loose beads within mere seconds

    All I wish to do now,
    Is to tear apart every part of my skin
    Which breathes life, which breeds life
    And to exhale out every ounce of hope
    That is inhabiting
    The sharp corners of my forsaken lungs

    For a moment, I wish to feel a little breathless

  • veloc1ty_ 45w

    Poseidon i, hold dear storms close to my chest.
    i fancy their loud roars and cries
    as they thump perfectly along my pulse
    built to withstand heavy thunderstorms,
    i don't search for excuses in the face of my fears
    i let my smile deal with the roughness
    that runs along their edges
    And i don't mean to enrage them,
    i just can't afford to ignore them
    my heart; it's built exactly for this season.

    but the burden that's lying on my chest
    is too much for me to bear alone,
    so getting drifted along with the wild winds
    is what it prays for.
    to feel a tad bit lighter than usual,
    is what it wishes for.

    and my mind,
    it sails through the waves of time
    with ease as it perseveres
    even through this rough season of high tide.
    and these waves, they hope to get the best of me
    but i'm a surfer in a sea that is my home,
    i'm the one who waits eagerly for them
    at the end of the sea, by the shore.

    holding my high ground on the soft sandy carpet,
    i laugh in the face of waves.
    wearing a callous smirk in front of this beast,
    i throw bits and pieces of myself

    showing no response, it manages to mislead me
    makes me mistake its apathy
    for its inability to devour me whole.
    famished but hushed, it stares at me funny.
    its mind, i've not known.
    but one thing i'm well aware of
    is that we both share a large appetite
    and we both have egoes of the size of black holes.

    my laughter although, is ephemeral
    as i forget it's not forgotten to hunt
    and even after all these years of dormancy
    the angry beast, it pounces at me
    with all of its unconstrained strength,
    and drags me away from the shore.

    defeated, i burst into tears.
    triumphed, it raises its roars.
    drowned, i lose my pulse.
    fulfilled, it swallows me whole.



    @writersnetwork ty for the kind repost :")❤

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  • veloc1ty_ 47w

    anxiety's a silent drop of water penetrating the stillness of my calm mind, severing the surface with wildness and diving into it, to add up to the volume of chaos that rests dormant inside it. it charges at me like a fanatic, sending across a range of tiny ripples that die even before reaching the shore but it's enough to rattle my mental state.

    and pain is like a hot spice that has lost all of its hotness, so it sits steady on the edges of my tongue waiting patiently for the crisis to arrive but it ends up not stinging me as much as it was meant to. It simply dissolves in with my inability to stir an emotion in the hot pot of the feelings i overcooked for myself.

    numbness is its byproduct, a strange feeling or rather the absence of it, and it has stuck to my skin for way too long now. it all began with the collapse of a stack of intangible thoughts, starting from the least of dangerous ones to the ones that are unfavourably violent. but eventually it shaped my thought train, sushing the frightened child in me that has recently been orphaned. and as any other orphanage, it took care of me when no one bothered to.

    now hope to me, is like a wet matchstick that doesn't answer properly to the whistling of spark. the fire within me has died long ago, and the fireplace that held the ceremony is now occupied by the uninvited cold. my bones shiver from inside and my lungs fail to catch a brea(k/th). time did what it had to, and im not absurd enough to hold it accountable for its actions. coz time was merely the cold water that (soak/sav)ed me from a third degree burn without realizing it would leave me freezing with a bitter cold mark in the process.

    Bg: Album cover of Circles by Mac Miller.
    Used in an attempt to pay tribute to him coz listening to it urged me to write this. ❤

    @writersnetwork ty for the kind repost (._.)

    Yay, I'm still worthy ��❤

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  • veloc1ty_ 55w

    For all the brave cancer patients who had to struggle harder coz of this pandemic.

    @mirakee @writersnetwork
    Thank you so much for the kind reposts :") ❤��

    Thank you everyone who read this :") ❤��
    and those who left lovely comments, thank you for making my night :") ❤��

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    If you'd like to measure pain, you should come visit me on a Monday evening when the sky is adorning grey and see me miserably failing to muffle my screams that are awaken once the husk of my bones comes apart and folds open like origami. They say pain is beautiful, but I beg to differ; they don't experience pain like I do.

    If you adore the thought of being skinny and despise the fat that's dangling from your skin, you should come visit me on a Tuesday night when the sky is pale and see me failing to lift up my hand to answer my father's text. The thin layer of skin that rests on my bones is devoid of energy and starving for the food I couldn't have in several months.

    If you feel nauseated at the sight of blood, you should come visit me on a Friday morning and hear the cries of my destitute heart that begs to see a pouch of blood poured into it. I wish I could turn these words into blood and feed it myself, but I can't expect the same words that put me in this spot to cure me from it. Life knocks at me really hard, but not quite much as my blood-thirsty heart that thumps.

    If you hate being around people and wish to be left alone in solitude, you should come visit me on a Saturday night, and see my eyes fixated at the door, hoping for someone familiar to walk through it and greet me like before. I've completely forgotten what a human touch feels like, if you count out all the nurses and doctors that hate to come near me in this grave pandemic, I haven't felt the sweet warmth of a touch in months.

    If you don't like the natural colour of your skin and like decorating yourself with makeup, you should come visit me on the weekend, when my body looks like a wallpiece of stitches indelible. I don't get to choose what colour my skin looks like, it's always pale and rough but on some luckier nights when the air is cold and the night is young, my feet freeze like winter, and take on the colour of clear skies; a mixture of light blue and purple.

    If you hate life and wish to give up on it because of a failed result or a bad heartbreak, you should come visit me on a Monday morning when the bright sunlight reminds you of hope and see me fighting my way through everything just to survive a life that is much worse than yours. With every ounce of strength left in my weak bones, I look in the eyes of a hopeful tomorrow without fear. So when you exchange gazes with me with tears sliding down your cheeks, I don't want you to offer me pity, instead I want you to value everything you have that I don't.

  • veloc1ty_ 56w

    Uhmmmm, the length might be a little intimidating, but I trust in you to overcome your fears :)

    Ty for the kind repost :") ❤��

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    On nights like these, when peace is available only in the company of solitude, I sit in my balcony all by myself, detaching myself from the outside world as well as the world that lives inside my home. Separated by a loyal door that guards my silence well, I feel safe and sound here inside my iron cladded fortress of serenity, at a height where bugs don't reach. And by bugs, I mean the noise that comes from my home.

    But my fortress is very much vulnerable to the noise the outside world holds, or rather roars. Coz I live near a busy railway station, in a city which intersects two major parts of the state. The annoying trains just don't ever leave me alone in peace for a minute. But tonight I try to keep my ego aside and search for a friend in them. I try to count the time taken by a local train between its appearance and disappearance. And to my surprise, it's only 8 seconds for 12 coaches to pass before my eyes. Normally it would seem it like an eternity of suffering, but today when I don't want it to, it moves away fast, just like a good time.

    The reason I don't want it to leave is coz this 12-coached rail carries lives, and the stories these lives hold. All of them, far from my reach, ebbing away from me on a moving piece of metal that makes a lot of noise. On nights like these, I wish to sit beside them and hear them out. I'd wanna listen to each of them cry their hearts out or bask in the joy their lives have given them. But to no avail, I just sit here watching them leave before eyes. These people and their stories, hanging by the bar, one slip of a grip away from becoming a story in the next day's news, in a small column under a large advertisement which no one bothers to read. All of them, are but a slave to monotony. Even you and me.

    But there's some good in monotony. Even though it bores them to death, it's a way to feed their stomachs. The route they take to work everyday, is often unchanged and the reason they complete the orbit, keeps their families alive, in the sense they don't have to bear the pain of their absense or even worry about not getting fed.

    My dad, just like one of them, takes the same route to work. I see him leave home with that same tired face everyday and return with a more tired one. After being outside for the entire day, he reaches home at night, finally back to their kids and wife. But upon entering through the door, he doesn't go for the glass of cold water that I offer with a smile, instead for our cat that runs towards him hearing the bell. He picks her up and holds her in his arms, and a smile instantly sprouts on his face. A relieving, calm and lively smile for a female cat whom god compensated him with for not giving him any daughter. With his adopted daughter beside him, the day he started with a tiring face ends with a calm one.

    The monotony I live, is not as bad as him. I'm a different kind of slave to it. I rest on my balcony for the most part of the day, binding together words that are far from pretty, in places that don't seem odd to an untrained eye. But some easily look through my scattered thoughts and grin over my incompetence of not sticking to the subject. Coz the start often gets derailed midway, and the story gets lost before reaching home.

    And on some days, the words just don't appear to me easily. The track remains empty and pale and the bigger portion of the blame goes to the kind of music I listen to. I intake music in excess amount, more than it's necessary, like the addict I am. The atmosphere surrounding my ears is always impregnated with likes of Kendrick, Eminem, and also the mumble stuff they both despise so religiously. But all those songs have one thing in common, although there's a seemingly big difference in subject matter, all are up-beat in nature and keep me away from feeling anything other than joy. They dry my emotional well, soak the entire pain out of me, and fill it up to the brim with chill and good vibes. And what good is a writer without the element of pain and melancholy?

    So on nights I wish to write, I search for those same old 10 sad songs that make me go on a sad trip without fail. But before I begin my journey of pain, I have to dig them out from my playlist of 1800 other songs that induce me with dopamine. It takes a good ten minutes to find them and to line them up in a queue that'll hopefully be the cause of an emotional rollercoaster between my eyes and cheeks.

    On nights like these, when the writer in me demands pain, I get drunk on these songs that the sober me won't listen to on an average day and come up with thoughts that the sober me can't process well.

    As I begin to immerse in these songs, the train of emotions arrives, I sit back in my seat and let it take me to a place where there's no land, just oceans of water stretching till my eyes could see. Without knowing how to properly swim through this melancholy, I start drowning. These songs amplify the few little problems I have into massives ones that rain anxiety over me. It really pulls me in like an afternoon sleep after a person spends the entire night staying up. And this make believe sadness, although strong for a cheerful fellow like me, is less intoxicating than the lives some people live.

    Now even though I don't have the faintest idea about the kind of slave you are to monotony, but one thing I do know of is the time you devote to mirakee is a lot. I see you here, on my feed without fail, sharing the same type of love, heartbreak and pain everyday. You read the same hurt and feed on the same lies too but I hope this breaks that chain. I hope you you've experienced something new with this piece.

    Coz unlike me, you actually got to read the story you wanted to read. It didn't just pass before your eyes like those people and their stories passed before mine. And I know you'll value that and keep it in your heart, wherever you'll go. For days the track remains vacant and there's no train in sight, you'll be sitting by the platform reminiscing the journey I took you on tonight in these last 12 paras you just read.

    PS: the colour of the bg resembles with the colour paint the local trains of my city are coated with.

  • veloc1ty_ 61w

    I've been surviving with the help of a few empty breaths and futile hopes for ages now since you made your untimely departure from my happy days. I've been waiting for that lovely death to embrace me in her loving arms the same way it buried you in her cold chest. I've been longing for that warm touch but the only one holding me close is neither you nor her, it's the darkness that showed up uninvited. It is kinder than both of you.

    I can feel the last ounce of my strength rotting away into pieces and taking a leave from my body. The red that flows in my veins is going all cold and blue, turning my heart into a colosseum of hurt and my mind into an abandoned castle of dust. It feels like I am freezing closer to death but I'm still miles away from reaching it. Blue doesn't feel like the warmest colour anymore.

    My throat has been losing its moisture and turning coarse as the ruins of sahara, but it's a quite different tale when you take a look under the blanket. It has been raining heavily thanks to the uninterrupted storm that's been hovering over my head since a decade. But I'm smart enough to cover my face so father doesn't have to witness what despair looks like.

    I just hope you don't visit me in my dreams, now that you're far gone. For I don't know what lengths I'll go to, to get back to the same dream where you are still alive.


    @shashagilbert_ ♡♡♡

    @writersnetwork (._.) ty for the repost ♡
    @mirakee ty for the 2nd pod (._.)♡ mandal aabhari aahe

    Thanks everyone for all the lovely comments. I'm overwhelmed by your constant love and support.❤❤❤Forever grateful for that :")

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    coarse memories turn my throat dry;
    and i try my best to refrain from submitting to the pain.
    but i fail every single time.

  • veloc1ty_ 66w

    you can find love neatly pressed between the pages of a melancholic book, breathing calmly alongside the beginning of the first chapter where his eyes meet hers for the very first time. a pair of dark brown pearls resting gracefully on a pretty face manage to stop him in his tracks, something our guy has never experienced before.

    you can find courage invoking at the end of chapter four when he finally decides to confess his feelings for her, after getting to know her well. although he has known her for a really short period of time, she seems like someone he will remember for times to come. our guy becomes the emblem of hope itself, for us readers sitting at home, when he puts aside his fears and discloses to her of what's forming in the back of his mind.

    you can find happiness nestled for the most part of the book starting from the point where she says yes till the time they figure out the problems that are yet to exist. but for now, things are working out really good. he has never seen better days, she's something he didn't know he was missing, she's radiant like the morning sun rays, she's cheerful like a beautiful rainbow after a heavy rain. but all that seems to fade away, when we reach to the part where begin their dark days.

    you can find strength residing in the arms of the ending of the last chapter where he chooses to let her go. it takes a lot of strength to set free a part of you that you thought who would never have to. when something isn't meant to be, you simply can't do anything to hold it together, even if at first it's looks unshakable. some endings take a 180 degree turn when it's looking all simple and predictable. a lovely monsoon turns into a disheartening season of heartbreak, an autumn which was supposed to bring home joy has got nothing in its pockets. we don't call it a fall for no reason.

    its not at all easy to keep our love intact or to retain happiness forever. we can't tackle the forces which are out of our control, forces which write our fates for us. perhaps the book was never meant to showcase a happy ending. it was a melancholic book, wasn't it?


    The bg belongs to me :)

    @writersnetwork ty for the kind repost :")❤����

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    you're like a book i left unread on the last chapter with no intentions of completing, coz i don't like how it ends.

  • veloc1ty_ 66w

    my mind seldom takes me on trips
    that leave me astray by the end of it.
    there's always this delusion of having a choice,
    while im being controlled with strings.
    those heavy decisions wear me down
    which im given less time to make.
    but the repercussions are even heavier
    than those poorly chosen mistakes
    i get punished for the things that were
    out of my control and out of my range
    i get blinded to the thin line that is slyly drawn
    between what's real and what's fake
    the road to recovery doesn't seem very easy
    when the damage done is too much to take
    and the path to salvation is also blocked by misery
    and by many guilts and regrets.
    my faith fails to help me out in this
    and my hope seems to diminish into a fade
    and there remains a no way out
    from this situation i created for myself

  • veloc1ty_ 71w

    Ty for the kind repost :') ❤️ @writersnetwork

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    the early morning dewdrops slide hastily
    leaving remnants of their sorrow behind
    on leaves layered with happiness in lots

    pens run hastily on a piece of paper
    leaving no room for others to intervene
    when the mind of a poet is brimming with thoughts

    eager hearts race hastily
    leaving no room for loneliness to reform again
    when their eyes come in contact with a lover from their past.

    lonely minds tread hastily
    on the roads of self destruction and self harm
    leaving no consideration on the notions of a second chance

    see, the world is in a constant hurry
    with or without any exceptions necessary
    with the loners requesting daily for their lives to end fast
    and with the lovers who are always praying for their forevers to last.

  • veloc1ty_ 77w

    Yesterday, joy surfaced everywhere around the country when clouds screamed with pain in the hues of red and blue. An enigmatic sight put on by the floating cotton candies that took place just above the horizon made us all squint our eyes in disbelief.
    And amidst all that fun, I found a way to interpret that view in a depressing way, enjoy ;)


    The zealous spirit of the skies found its way upto my heart sparking a tenebrous thought; if I could grab some of these colours and smear it on my colourless soul, with it hide all the dull greyness?
    Plenty of colourful cotton candies carrying pigments of hope in every bit of them are spread evenly across the skies and I'm quite sure it doesn't need all of that.
    Will it help me make myself whole again?
    Would the skies bother if I borrow just a pinch worth of colour?

    The clouds simply don't rain as hard as me and they aren't as regular as me either. My pillow covers are a witness to the rainfall my eyes impart and the deep stretch marks left on my hugsy when I let go of it with angst will tell you about my sorrow better than these polished words ever could. Skies don't stretch the metaphor that far long but I don't spare an effort to make my pain look any less than a pinch. A tight gradually increasing pinch at my naked heart with a pitiful mercy, which leaves me numb for a few minutes.

    My legs search for a home I don't have a connection to. They keep walking the distance on their own, tired yet restless, without any hope but with a will to keep on marching indifferently. It's been a while since I've taken a breath of relief, my legs have started to stutter and my lips have been totally sealed. The words don't leave my mouth, they keep echoing inside my head and it seems like they have found their home in me while I struggle helplessly to call a place my own.

    Maybe the skies can help me with a sign, for which direction to take.
    Are they communicating already with the subtlety these colours spread with?
    Is it an indication of the coming of the peace I was longing for..
    or is it just a bad omen for more destruction to follow through?
    Ty for the kind repost :") ❤️ @writersnetwork

    @_rainfrost_ hehe i can't stop attempting these prompts by you :P
    this isn't my submission

    Hiraeth : Feeling homesick for a home where you can't go anymore or which never existed.

    The BG picture belongs to me :)

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    today the skies showed us a picturesque view,
    tomorrow it will rain heavily.

  • veloc1ty_ 82w

    Ty for the kind repost :")❤️ @writersnetwork

    true story.

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    I've known the love of a loving mother
    through various women in my family
    For one thing, I wasn't raised by my own mother,
    everyone took turns in raising me properly.

    Being away from my mother for 14 years,
    I was eager to meet her and get loved by her
    She had missed me just as much I had missed her,
    and she was excited to show me my younger brother.

    She treated us both the same, even though she wasn't that familiar with me as much as she was with her second
    but being a son without a mother for that many years was just as hard as being a mother without a son for a decade.

    During my 14 years of 'vanvas',
    my grandma fed me with her hands
    my aunt helped me with my assignments and projects
    my cousin's mom taught me discipline yet she was the one who bought me all the toys
    my granny made my bed, wore me sweaters and monkeycaps
    she slept beside me during scary nights
    when my mother was in a far-away land.

    they all did their part in negating the lack of mother that i had
    they raised me selflessly, with unconditional love as if i was their own child.
    so i find it hard to put the emotions of a mother on a single woman,
    coz i was blessed with not just one but many different mothers.

  • veloc1ty_ 86w

    the things we often take granted for
    are issues for the people who lack it
    not everyone is lucky to be born in
    privileged places,
    the ones that aren't have to fight for it
    god imposes his wrath with the droughts
    or are humans, the ones that cause it
    we misuse valued resources we have got
    and then we blame god for the crisis
    dont be selfish and ignorant out of all
    be responsible so we all can avoid this

    Now, about the piece on the background.
    It's a concrete poem. I've put a lot of emphasis on the structure of the poem rather than the writing. Also I've compromised good grammar just for the sake of keeping the aesthetics intact.

    This piece is dedicated on creating awareness against a global crisis of water scarcity.


    @i_faha another one ma'am :)

    @writersnetwork ty guys for the kind repost ❤

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    we're runnin
    out of fresh water resources
    really at a very rapid
    rate and
    it's very
    scary how we don't care
    some of us are really lucky that we get clean
    water so easily which is hardly the case for the
    people who live in rural areas. they have to walk
    several kilometers everyday to get access to it.
    v shouldnt really take such an
    important privilege like this
    fr granted. we're blessed
    to obtain it
    such easily at
    our disposal

    not be
    don't use water
    however u


  • veloc1ty_ 87w

    summer's gone cold this year
    it's chilly all around
    there's supposed to be a scorch
    but there's a mist in my heart
    a freezing tan that baked on me
    has left a dark mark
    it burns with a cold sensation
    and its not fading anytime
    although the eerie birds have returned
    they seem to have lost their paths
    shall i praise the lord for bringing them back home
    or curse him to leave them more scarred

    my poetries now
    are just a bunch of orphans
    homeless and helpless
    finding their lost father
    while im busy hiding myself
    from the incoming onslaught
    fighting a war with someone
    who i have no idea about
    im burning my eyes gazing at my phone
    while my poor soul has devolved
    these weary fingers run faster
    before my sleepy mind could take a yawn
    its hard to put any emotions into these words
    coz there's hardly any feelings involved
    but theres a lot of anguish, and hatred
    against the one that had us formed
    im left all alone when this numbness
    takes over everything from my toes to my scalp
    while i sit here in my balcony dead,
    spilling pain onto this paper looking appalled

    ty for the kind repost :) made my day ❤
    have a nice day @writersnetwork

    @mirakee ty for the kind repost ;_; ♡ made my night❤
    have a nice night you guys ♡♡♡♡♡

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    summer's gone cold this year
    it's chilly all around
    there's supposed to be a scorch
    but there's a mist in my heart

  • veloc1ty_ 89w

    These words of my creation are adhered to my skin but they sulk with a fear of inevitable detachment. I know they're my own blood but sometimes I feel the need to put them to sleep, as they've been awake for an ample period now.

    They desire for a forever from someone like me who's cursed with a temporary existence. How would I be able to grant them immortality, when I, myself struggle with the concept of perpetuity. So killing them at infancy is the safest measure than watching them enter into adulthood and choke me to death. It's rather easy to strangle them now while I have the energy to do so, than to preserve them at the cost of my sanity.

    They portray my naivety blatantly, exposing my insecurities when there's no such need of it. It makes me vulnerable towards potential threats. They hurt me in ways invisible to the untrained eye and frankly, I do feel naked.

    There are many desperate eyes watching me from the shadows, with bad intents, biding their time and waiting for the right moment to pounce at me, sheathing the same words which I birthed a while ago. I can't let these children of mine be the cause of my death. Fatality by my own words is what I try to avoid. So I keep killing them, one word at a time so there's one less weapon to be scared of.

    Ty for the kind repost :")❤️ @writersnetwork

    P.S: This piece deals with my weird addiction of post deletion.

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    to kill a mocking word.

  • veloc1ty_ 90w

    Her fleeting energy
    was depleting faster
    than her stygian curse,
    as his deceiving words
    imparted a smoky touch
    on her poor frail lungs.

    The emotions of her guileless soul
    were tainted by false promises.
    He managed to hide his cruel face
    behind innocent veiled intentions.
    And concealed behind fake apperances,
    all of his pledges were mere pretences.

    Her smile lamented from her face,
    leaving a dark cloud of disgust
    while she stared at the dull visage
    of her own image in the broken mirror.
    Her mood was gilded by faint emotions,
    her throat lumped and her heart left withered,
    When the real meaning behind his words
    made her question her own self-worth.

    Ty for the kind repost :")❤️ @writersnetwork
    P.S:- fiction xD

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    Her fleeting energy
    was depleting faster
    than her stygian curse,
    as his deceiving words
    imparted a smoky touch
    on her poor frail lungs.

  • veloc1ty_ 93w

    November, 2018

    I was against the thought of separation but these things happened so fast, it was a big blur, one moment I was with them, laughing and having fun by their side and the next moment they were all gone, everyone. They took a part of me with them which bloomed of life. Solitude wasn't a choice, I was put into it by the same people I held close to my heart.

    I'm biding my time now, trying to stay away from festering a darkness inside me but I'm failing to resist an urge to not succumb to it. It is hard to see anything else other than a bland greyness that's stuck to my skin, it's draining me of life and fading my colours, sucking every little joy I once remembered. My own thoughts are forming an alliance against me, to commit a sin to my body. It's a commity of voices who believe I shouldn't hold them captive inside my mind. They want to be set free from this worthless body of mine. They want to save themselves from this slow painful demise.

    I see a curtain closing on me, separating me from the outside world, putting me behind the bars of solitude. The walls are closing in, with no hopes of recovering from what it looks like an eternity of suffering. Broken are the pieces, and I can't decide which part to fix and which part to tear away. The laughs we had together are suffocating me, I'm missing a part of me who didn't feel dead from inside. I'm drowning in a puddle of melancholy, and I don't have anything to hold onto.

    My salt-stained pillow reeks of sorrow given by the same people who once gave my life a meaning. Every day is the same dull routine of burying my face into it, in hopes of forgetting everything I once had with me. I can't see the light of day, everything in this room is dark, including my thoughts.
    Every day seems longer than the previous one and it's a struggle to choose between closing my eyes and opening them. But there's no difference between them at all. Everything looks the same both ways, dead and colorless.
    I haven't talked to anyone else except my mom since ages. I don't remember the last time I left my room and what the world looks like. It's a memory of something which I saw explode in front of my eyes.

    I'm working my way towards finding a solution to put an end to this misery at once. There's nothing left for me in this place, other than painting my pillow with different shades of sadness everyday. It also hurts a lot to not share this with anyone. To not have a shoulder to lean on.
    Will I be able to explain this pain to anyone before leaving this place?
    Will I live to enjoy and not just for the sake of keeping my parents happy?
    Will I be accompanied by anyone else other than my own putrid thoughts?
    Will I find a purpose or a reason to get up and not feeling like going back to sleep again?
    Will life start to look like life again?

    February 2020

    I've gotten away from everything I was afraid of. I've survived everything I thought that would kill me. It stripped me of my insecurities and impurities. It made me value things greatly and look at life differently.
    Looking back, I think the universe has a way of giving back the things you lost in battles you weren't prepared for.

    #pod @mirakee @writersnetwork

    @writersnetwork Thank you for the kind repost❤

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    The universe has a way of giving back the things you lost in battles you weren't prepared for.

  • veloc1ty_ 94w

    I breathe in fumes of hatred in a post apocalyptic world, bearing a heavy pressure on my smoky lungs. I take small puffs of poison induced air every 5 seconds. My throat is dry and hard, my body is freezing just like your cold deadbeat heart.

    I gulp down toxins as you keep feeding it to me with your sweet little hands. I sleep on my bed, agitated and short of breath but you refuse to turn on the fan. I don't question it, but I don't like what you're doing to me.

    You try your best to cut off my life support, maybe because you like being the only man around. You want everything to yourself, right? You leave me breathless, as you smile looking at your phone. Without a care if I live or die, you keep ignoring me like all the girls in your DMs.

    I feel like I'm not worth anything to you, just a living carcass who just happened to be blood related to you.
    When I'll take my last breath, I want you to cry for me
    even though if the roles are reversed, I won't do the same for you.

    I want you to leave roses on my grave, in hopes of one of the thorns pricking you. I'll watch the roses rot to their death, down from six feet under the ground.

    I'll enjoy every time a petal dies until the whole rose dries out. Just like how you watched me die, how you left me breathless and suffocated, how you showed me the road that lead to my demise.

    @writersnetwork ty for the kind repost :")

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  • veloc1ty_ 102w

    #writerstolli #magic9_wt
    Rhyme scheme:- abacadaba

    Rays of hope rise through the gracefully severed skies,

    Amplifying the vision of radiance to help us bloom.

    Murky effulgence of the sun hiding behind the cloud flies,

    Alloting blissful fragments to the children of mother earth.

    Numerous pockets of happiness fill the skies with butterflies,

    Uprooting the stench of evil from the melodramatic azure.

    Jovial birds in the skies celebrate the day with sunrise.

    Angelic love fluxes amidst the horizon and vanishes gloom,

    Neatly severing the cords of hatred it asks us to equalize.

    pic credits:- me

    Ty for the kind repost :") ❤️ @writersnetwork

    Read More

    Rays of hope rise through the gracefully severed skies
    Amplifying the vision of radiance to help us bloom
    Murky effulgence of the sun hiding behind the cloud flies
    Alloting blissful fragments to the children of mother earth
    Numerous pockets of happiness fill the skies with butterflies
    Uprooting the stench of evil from the melodramatic azure
    Jovial birds in the skies celebrate the day with sunrise
    Angelic love fluxes amidst the horizon and vanishes gloom
    Neatly severing the cords of hatred it asks us to equalize