2 posts
  • jpdiya 3w

    btw Happy winter y'all ☃️��

    (From the perspective of a Typhoon. It comes, destroys, and disappears.)

    Lost in Gust

    In this city of feigned angels,
    My demons are running wild.
    I've strived to evade it,
    But it always has been futile.

    I've been chocking on my fears,
    Been killing souls since years,
    Bottles of emotion taste much better
    With a sip of bitter memories.
    And fearless eyes in my dining
    Have been watching so many
    Heartbreak anniversaries.

    Between my fingers
    Insolent love bleeds strangely,
    Scratching strokes against the wall.
    The red stain in my hand, lip and shirt
    Is the only colour I'm owing now.

    I lost myself in the dread clouds,
    And never really found back.
    Somehow in this forest of concrete
    The corpses are lying hither and thither,
    Where melancholy nights are with deaf cries,
    My guilt screams louder in the sky,
    My hunger, it grows, and grows,
    Still seeks for pretty happy thin lies.

    **Here 'I' refers to a regretful Typhoon**


    @writersnetwork ty ��‍♀️

    Thank you soo much , you people are really amazing ��

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  • jpdiya 9w



    "The one with a 'sequin smile', having lots of friends, always sharing happy thoughts along the tiffin box, trying to help others..."

    "A social butterfly? Right?"

    "Yeah but a broken one", said with a pale smile.

    //Even though I had a really good circle of friends, somehow I always felt like a burden. I was lost on my own. Thinking about what others would think. Then it came when I really didn't want to talk with anyone, but I also wanted everyone to know me, to know who I really am. A weak me behind those fancy dresses. A introverted tryna acting extrovert. Darling, it wasn't the awkward silence in our conversations, it was the sound of loneliness. Maybe I got an addiction to beauty of sadness, got addicted to feel alone even when hundreds of people were with me. //

    ~Bona fide~

    All these years,
    Did I really smile?
    Behind these rails of poetry
    Could you see the genuine me?
    Could you hear me crying?

    Numerous day spent by
    Wearing a cheery face.
    Holding a fake persona,
    Longing to feel happy.
    Volatile 'Me' indeed.

    when I was young
    I was afraid of changes.
    But now I've changed.
    The memories I have,
    Inside this ferris wheel,
    Are falling in ground like
    The ashes of a burnt tree.

    People say, people explain
    People even coerce to claim.
    Too many souls wandering alone,
    Conquering piles of expectations.

    And I poured out my agony
    In a paper named 'Hope'.
    The rain got my paper wet.
    I was waiting for the rainbow
    But it never really came...

    ©jpdiya ( jannat)

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