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  • mirror 34w

    //absaar
    (sight)

    hazy when it rains
    i look out of a window
    stretching my palms towards freedom
    pretending
    that there is more to this world
    while a subdued part of me wonders
    what more can i ever see
    through the only window i am allowed to keep

    fuzzy when it's cold
    my window is frosted
    with facades and faint cries
    of everything that is
    protecting me from what lives
    outside my room
    that my crutches cannot distinguish
    with two clicks on the ground
    on the other side of the only window
    i am allowed to keep

    bright in summer, i feel heat
    i try to look outside but my eyes betray me
    as i fail to make sense of the beauty
    that i've only drawn in pictures
    that are now paper planes, flying
    i scratch the window, try to break through
    for myself
    a view
    that is for once not adulterated
    with the descriptions
    from the eyes of everyone else
    who's been luckier than me
    to see the world, unfiltered
    but what view do i see
    when my eyes physically prevent me
    from distinguishing between
    sky blue and tree green
    as i sit behind a dead black screen
    realising, that to me, the world shall always look alike,
    through whatever window i'm allowed to keep.

    ©mirror

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    absaar

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  • mirror 49w

    //khayaal

    thoughts.
    of what i've been doing
    wasting a life so privileged
    that i could make scatter plots
    of all the random things
    i think of
    and not join the dots
    because straight lines through them
    are misleading and false.

    thoughts of my neighbour
    of the girl i saw at the mall
    of all the love i let go
    because my thoughts told me
    that it'd be funny for love to come easy.

    thoughts of you, the wonder of simplicity
    the fragrance of your touch that i don't remember feeling
    but thoughts, just thoughts, that institute in my head and race down my spine every time i misprize the power of my thoughts.

    thoughts of seclusion, thoughts of approval,
    thoughts that run parallel but travel in opposite directions
    centripetal thoughts of radii that only my mind can walk
    ancillary thoughts opening dimensions in my head,
    that it is almost impossible for me,
    to ever visit, the thought, that onset this fire.

    yet, overthought thoughts that i cannot get rid of,
    that i wished had a conclusion,
    that made me feel less miserable about how shallow my brain is.
    thoughts of ending.

    thoughts of ending.
    beginning
    ending again
    a pendulum of thoughts between right and wrong,
    a myriad of emotions that somehow fit into these binary values,
    that side at the opposite ends of this pendulum.

    thoughts.
    thoughts.
    thoughts that don't make sense,
    that i cannot make sense of
    that keep my senses so engaged that there is nothing i can do
    but think.

    thoughts that i think
    that power my existence, all in my head
    and fade it in a world that my thoughts claim, doesn't exist.

    ©mirror

    picture credits - pinterest

    @shreyah hi cutu

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    khayaal

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  • mirror 59w

    //banjar
    (barren)

    welcome home
    but it's like they never left
    and painted the rooms in the colour of
    moist eyes and a heavy chest

    cracks on the ceiling
    broken windows
    there's a way in but no way out
    of these one sided doors

    i see gaps in bricks
    and cement that wasn't allowed to rest
    i see hurry and i see rush
    dreck of a nest

    i set out a meaningless sigh
    facing trouble feeling this fallout
    it echoes and comes back to me
    as the walls question my whereabouts

    the floor doesn't feel safe
    i don't know this place anymore
    self, is what i named it
    when it made me feel like home

    but the more i walk into it
    the shallower it gets
    thoughts pinned onto bulletins
    half burnt unlike all my regrets

    i wonder if i set this on fire
    where else will i go
    when it gets cold at night
    or when I'm all alone

    it seemed to me like yesterday
    when i did not feel so weak
    this place felt known
    and all of it was all of me

    for unknown i was
    to what decay felt
    until i couldn't feel my feet anymore
    and forgot when the ball ended and everyone left

    so i watched my surroundings betray me
    slowly realising what went wrong
    i was but a house of cards
    so fragile, that i was meant to fall.

    ©mirror


    picture credits - pinterest

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    banjar

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  • mirror 61w

    Usually when I am writing my heart out, I don’t feel weighed down. My heart feels relieved, as if it is at peace seeing me face my emotions and getting rid of all the anxiety that these uneasy times bring to me however today, as I am writing this, I feel compacted. I feel like the world is deliberately trying to crush the little hope that is left in me. I’ve been strong, so have my people. The kind of support I’ve received and learnt to give parallels my patience through every adversity and this was one of those times when I felt like the world wanted to reward me for staying put and not losing hope. One year of doing things that do not make sense, aimlessly fueling my mind with good thoughts and hopes for a better tomorrow only to realise that it is all supposed to come crashing down and hit where it hurts the most.
    Tears come in spurts and I break down so often that I forget the last time I wiped my face. My skin feels like a blank canvas for emotions that do not find a translation in words. I try too hard to map everything that goes in my head but today, today I am too tired to try. The words that I am scared of the most are coming to haunt me because they are all I can think of right now. Everything is changing, happening so soon, I wish I had the time to pause everything and change it. I wish it got easier from today. I wish I had more time, just a little more time because if there was one thing I could ask my God, it would be just a few more days with you.

    //one of those days when I realise that no finite number of days will ever be enough because my love for you goes far beyond

    ©mirror

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    16.3.21

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  • mirror 65w

    //khalish
    (unease)

    how convoluted are our stories
    that it almost feels as if
    there is a wall between us
    that i do not dare to look through
    and you don't bother to look past.
    we both just stay,
    right where we are.

    we're both wrong
    i, when i don't tell you
    how hurtful your abstention is
    and how the little things i did for you
    don't seem to make any sense
    because halfway through time
    effort is a two way road
    and you, when you fail to look
    if i am still following you
    or if i ever did
    for i may have been stuck
    at the beginning
    and stayed,
    right where I was.

    they say it gets easier
    i say that it doesn't
    it stays the same,
    probably gets worse
    but we accomodate the patterns
    after a thousand failed attempts
    we know where it gets ugly
    and we prepare ourselves
    conditioning, to not expect anything
    so that it hurts less
    and when growth ceases to exist
    we don't have a choice
    but to stay
    wherever we are

    and the cycles continue.
    where we starve the roots
    that we've forced to hold us
    in place
    neglecting every need
    that may voluntarily let us stay
    until we realise
    there's nothing worth staying for.

    ©mirror

    picture credits - pinterest

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    khalish

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  • mirror 67w

    //hasrat
    (desire)

    on most days
    i don't write
    but every time i do,
    i kill something inside.

    i fear my words
    so i avoid facing them on paper
    and choose to cry them out
    as i feel them trickle down
    wondering if muffled sobs
    are as satisfying as screams
    typed in capitals, out of words
    that don't add up but echo of my disparity.

    i talk but i don't say things
    assuming that the world
    doesn't contain the heart
    to listen to the feelings
    that i don't have the voice for
    lowkey hoping for one heart
    to hear me out.

    so i let my art run astray
    waiting for it to bring back words
    as souvenirs
    from places that reek of estrangement
    and don't make me feel as less of a human

    but whenever these words add up
    a fear comes to life
    sentences start making sense
    and i let out a sigh and cry
    holding the nib against my neck
    mourning every reason as to why
    i dont write
    because every time i do
    i kill my voice inside
    wishing if it could have just talked me through
    and made things right

    ©mirror

    picture credits - pinterest

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    hasrat

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  • mirror 78w

    //firaaq
    (separation)

    read between the lines
    as the rain talks quietly
    and writes poetries
    in shades of silver and grey
    on a canvas darker than
    the bottomless pit into which
    i am now falling;
    watch and weep
    as i burn, word by word,
    every letter that i ever wrote
    waiting for the pain to dive, dilate and die;
    write back to me in the language
    that i spent years developing -
    a different signature for every emotion
    that was considered unnecessary.
    weed out the sunflowers
    and grow acer in my field
    bind all my drafts and unstitch my weaves
    eat alone, drown in wine
    draw flowers over everything
    that i've called mine
    do not turn off the lights
    let them be the company you keep
    plant hydrangeas on my grave
    as i choose to leave.

    ©mirror

    picture credits - pinterest

    @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    firaaq

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  • mirror 82w

    //mashiyyat
    (wish)

    a rock for a heart
    white and grey
    weathering and rotting
    turning into clay
    i wish for things to change
    so i grow mosses all around
    trying to cover up
    for the negligence of seasons
    and protect this heart
    from mouldering away
    but the mosses are dampening
    and a heavy heart grows heavier
    day after day
    until it degenerates
    layer by layer
    and pieces of it travel to places
    that my feet cannot walk to;

    a rock of a heart
    now a pebble
    does not miss
    the granules and modicums
    that are soiled in lands, unknown
    as shelters, stoppers and sheathes
    emancipating emotions
    that i never knew existed
    and welcoming the weather and weathering
    as mosses fertilize flowers in lush gardens
    that grow in place of this heart, white and grey
    causing changes in my own self
    so that i do not wish for things to change

    ©mirror

    @writersnetwork @mirakee

    i've been inactive (haha not a surprise) but @eclipsed_sun @zohiii and @iamsleepy (idk if you've changed your username or deactivated but i really hope you see this) thank you so much you guys for making me want to write and get back and for leaving the sweetest comments while i was away. *melts into a puddle*


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    mashiyyat

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  • mirror 86w

    //kaidi
    (prisoner)

    when i close in
    and zone out
    bricks facinate me
    and i position myself
    against the wall of
    all my insecurites
    cemented with smiles
    that should never have existed
    and adorned with hooks
    that now prick my back
    as i very meticulously start building
    a cage with no windows
    around my promonotary self
    with walls so tall
    that nobody dares to climb
    and basements so deep
    that my roots reach wide
    upto everything discarded and decaying;
    i build till my arms hurt
    and my tears go dry
    hatch the roof and bolt it from the inside;
    and as i sit in this enclosed room
    of everything i've ever feared
    i feel the closest to myself
    vulnerable and holding up tears
    waiting for my walls to go weak
    and fall and pin me down
    so i can collect the debris of my fallen self
    and begin building again
    the whole of me, that i am too naive to know
    territories from the parts of me
    that i'd never dare to show

    ©mirror

    picture credits - pinterest
    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    kaidi

    ©mirror

  • mirror 87w

    //musalsal
    (constant)

    my fears are definitive
    because every step i take
    somehow makes me want to think
    of everything tragic that there is
    and my mind does not stop
    creating possibilities
    that leave me paralyzed
    for hours
    until i wait for the situation to pass
    close, closer to what i thought would happen
    slowly killing myself and wondering
    if that was the worst
    that could have happened
    and that makes me
    so much more susceptible
    to the very chance of its reoccurrence
    in ways that hold my breath and thoughts
    as i push myself down the road of
    fearing and over analyzing
    again
    and again
    and again
    until my thoughts show up on my skin
    leaving scars on my heart
    and drafts in my diary
    as i stand on yet another crossroad
    with the nib against my throat
    wondering if i should take a turn
    or keep standing
    till the end of me

    ©mirror

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

    picture credits - pinterest

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    musalsal

    ©mirror