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  • mehna_2006 45w

    People searched for these myths all mornings because
    It is said that when the sunsets
    It leaves you blind for the rest of the nights.

    I would never believe the myths said by
    Those faded souls but I would admire them .
    The myths were beautiful to listen.

    There were a few ,
    So let me tell you the ones
    I remember.

    Long ago ,
    When the grass was sweet ,
    It was said that
    The sun dies
    and leaves to heal it's burns.
    The sun was caught wailing it's heart out
    when it tried to mend it's wound
    And it was caught by the
    Fallen angel that stumbled upon
    The blinding lights of its pain .

    Somewhere far from there ,
    Where the grass was snow
    It was said that
    The sun sleeps when it returns
    To its warm ' home '
    Before waking the other few who
    Waited for the light to shine
    through the soft fabric hung
    On the windows .

    Another time
    When poetry was born ,
    It was said that the sun was in love
    Because it died every night
    To watch the moon glimmer ,
    Hiding under the fading clouds
    Just to catch a glance of it .

    And last one
    When the poet and poetess were remembered,
    It is said that the sun leaves each time
    To shine on your better half
    That waits for the moon to meet you
    The moon and Sun would meet on both behalves .




    #myth #wod #me #life

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    The sun would die or leave
    For something still unknown
    The myths that feed your imagination
    Could be an escape .


  • mehna_2006 45w

    When she came back
    After almost losing herself completely.
    But some of her self remained
    Because she had to lose a part of her
    To save her from fading .

    The whispers and murmurs grew
    Hitting her new ears .
    If it was the 'old' her ,
    She would've been broken
    before they spoke .
    But the 'old' her didn't return this time
    So instead,
    She kept walking with those cold eyes
    And warm heart
    That thawed from the
    Ice memories that froze there .

    She knew
    People can only talk
    And assume
    To cover their cluelessness
    About what happened.
    They could talk and judge
    But are too lazy to find out the truth
    Afraid they have to help .

    What she learned from
    The moonlit nights
    Was that
    Nobody gets to tell you
    That you changed ,
    When they weren't beside you
    When you struggled to
    stay the same .



    It's been too long
    I know
    And I'm sorry ��
    Hope y'all are fine
    And never forget
    You're worth it.

    #me #life #she #changes_that_forgive

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    When she returned ,
    But not the same.

  • mehna_2006 52w

    The boy who built a wall ,
    Not with bricks .
    But with thoughts .
    Deep and empty thoughts .
    That no one but he know .
    These thoughts flew
    Some around the empty heart
    And some around the strange mind
    He spends all his time with .

    He built the wall as to
    escape the advices
    Given by mysterious beings
    That appear whenever
    He does anything.
    Those whom we call
    People .
    How easily they would say
    " You can't do it "
    Or " you're too weak "
    Without once thinking about
    What his wee heart would feel
    Once it shatters like glass
    That was once fixed and
    yet broken again.

    He stayed behind the wall
    And glanced at his shattered
    Pieces of the heart that broke
    Everytime some thoughts
    Replayed the past ,
    As if a memory that never left
    But kept bidding goodbyes .

    He used to write them ,
    But the inked started to fade
    And appeared in his dreams
    Making it a nightmare
    That's why he's so scared to
    Close his eyes at dark
    And keeps staring until
    The moon goes away .

    For them it was a memory forgotten ,
    But for him
    Everytime he feels the breeze
    That reaches his insides
    Through the cracks
    It all comes back
    As if a memory he clinged onto
    As if it was his last .


    | 2:21 |

    #life # me

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    The boy who built the wall
    Not with bricks ,
    But with thoughts that never left .


  • mehna_2006 58w

    #cage #pod

    07 | 07 | 21

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    The empty rusted jail ,
    Was something he hated .
    But it wasn't any prison outside .
    It was just his own thoughts making it a huge dark cage .
    As if he was the bird and his thoughts were his cage .
    He could break this fragile cage ,
    Perhaps he didn't want to .
    You can always escape cages
    But only if you want to .


  • mehna_2006 58w

    No one .
    Not a single butterfly that flew came back .
    They had their pretty wings and they flew a long journey .
    Forgetting the beautiful yet hurting memories they made .
    This little beauty was stripped of its own wings
    And somehow forced to live .
    No memory mattered
    No tears dried ,
    Well that was it .
    The story of the butterfly that was forced to forget how to fly .


    @zeba_gulsum �� hope you don't mind .

    1:10 am

    07 | 07 | 21

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    The wings were cut
    And yet the butterfly lived.

  • mehna_2006 59w

    Maybe ,
    Just maybe i can too see those lights lit up
    Not in the sky but on the ground
    Around me .
    Thought it is a hopeless dream
    That I still can't  bring myself to ink .
    Afraid it will be crumbled like every other dream I ever dreamt of .
    Perhaps I got used to the crumbled papers comforting them in the corner of my memories .
    I never open them .
    Neither do I want to burn them .
    The ashes will haunt me every time I will dream. 
    And those unknown pieces that I put together ,
    Will too slowly start to fall before it was even finished.



    After a long time . This is just random .
    #life #me

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    Perhaps crumbling those pages was better than letting them cover my sight .
    Afterall they were too once a part of me .


  • mehna_2006 60w

    I go through the old
    Dusty room .
    This room was forgotten ,
    I threw the keys
    In the deep ocean of
    My thoughts.
    But today
    I swam through
    Those crushed paper like
    Thoughts that never stopped.
    That one memory
    Of these keys jingling
    In my hand .
    I finally found it
    And I opened the long
    forgotten space .
    There wasn't much in this place.
    Just some faded Polaroids
    And some torn pages
    Of poems that I wrote
    Along with some
    Canvas with the
    strokes of my agony
    That I painted as to forget.
    One huge box lies in the corner
    That too covered with dust
    As a blanket to keep it warm.
    Opening it , I couldn't help
    but be underwhelmed.
    There was just one Polaroid inside.
    Why wasn't this with the others ?
    That one Polaroid was half burnt
    Almost on a verge to become ashes.
    As if I wanted to forget this memory
    But then I changed my mind.
    Just a usual scenary laid on this
    Picture and gave a nostalgic sense.
    Unknown yet felt it wanted to show me
    The whole view .
    But couldn't.
    This almost burnt Polaroid gave
    A feeling of those forgotten
    And faded pictures .



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  • mehna_2006 61w

    Happy birthday buddy ������
    Hope you have marvelous day
    And all your wishes come true .

    ~ your mirakee buddy


    ( I just hope I got the date right (๑•﹏•) )

    And sorry I couldn't find a better bg ��

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    You wrote your heart out ,
    And reading them made me feel the same .
    We became friends in the comment section
    And not letters but let me tell you buddy ,
    You write more than beautiful.
    And your support is as beautiful as your posts .
    Hope you know that you're worth it .
    Always .


  • mehna_2006 61w

    The streets were almost empty ,
    And even if it was crowded
    I'd never felt any different .
    But it was quiet
    When no one was around .
    And with no voices covering my sight
    I could faintly hear the breeze
    Telling me enjoy the view
    That I never got to see .
    The beige sign boards
    Old yet doing thier work ,
    Helping the lost and so .

    The glass of that cafe I never visited
    Was calling me to see through the glass ,
    I thought was opaque .
    But it was just a faded mirror
    Showing me the eyes I never got to meet.
    Those doe eyes simply staring back
    Just as mine .

    The smell of the coffee
    that I never liked ,
    Was somehow now good .
    A change could never hurt
    Or could it ?

    With a heavy heart
    My steps drag me until
    The bells rings above the door .
    Still hesitant ,
    I walk up to the counter .
    Ordering the first thing on the menu
    And quietly searching for a peaceful Place .
    But the whole place was serene
    And empty .
    That's what made it peaceful for me .

    Sitting by the window ,
    Staring at myself again
    I wait for a cup to arrive .
    The street was still empty
    And alone
    Almost like me ,
    In need of a change
    But the street is better this way
    Empty or crowded ,
    Old or new
    I would choose the old and empty one .
    Always .

    My cold hands touch
    the cup of hot coffee
    That reached me before
    my thoughts stopped .
    The warmth was welcoming
    And even the states I was getting were ,
    As if they would welcome me too .

    Sipping quietly not to disturb any ears
    In this quiet atmosphere we were in .
    I close my eyes
    as the taste seems unfamiliar
    And yet enveloped my sense around it .

    Finishing the coffe with a soft smile
    I keep the cup gently down on the table
    And stare at street that was now
    Standing still between some feet
    Moving here and there.

    Quite chatters flowing along the breeze
    And some fallen leaves being crushed
    Wasn't that bad to hear to .
    The steps stoping and moving again
    Faces covered in scarfs .
    Wasn't that unpleasant to see .
    The cold breeze embracing me from afar
    And the a thin faded glass separating me from it
    Wasn't that harming to feel .

    A little change doesn't hurt ,
    Indeed it doesn't
    Until you make that little change .

    Little things change ,
    Little things help change too .



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    Little things change &
    Little things help change too .

    ~ M.R

  • mehna_2006 61w

    The rain left me yearning
    And every cloud abandoned me .
    They left me in a hope that
    I would be okay .
    But in the reality
    I wasn't
    Even being without people Around,
    I never felt alone
    And now that I'm without
    these unknown serenes .
    I was nothing but lonely .

    I stay under the shower
    Under the promise
    That broke like
    Teardrops falling
    from Above .
    In the belief that
    My misery will be hidden
    under this unfamiliar rain
    That didn't fall from
    The clouds
    I used to remember
    When the sky was alone
    Just like me .

    My tears don't fall
    Neither do they pour .
    Guess even my tears
    Don't want anything other than
    that warmth that the cold rain gave .
    They keep brimming in my eyes
    And yet so stubborn
    Not to be consoled by any
    But those soft whites
    That they thought would
    Soak these drops
    And pour them back down
    As a comfort of my own .


    ☁️ ��

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    • I was left alone
    And this time
    It was the rain that dried
    And the clouds that faded •