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  • naqsaif 4d

    As I got ready for the dinner that everyone's been so eager about,I coundn't help but think about breakdowns,
    About how everyone has their own way of breaking down under the weight of life.
    Prejudiced little shit called life
    Some people ,like my mother, breakdown softly
    gently
    like a feather falling,
    they will persist through the day with red rimmed eyes,a tear or two and an occasional smile
    Some people are like my father, they hardly break
    They are ever-enduring, except for a silent tear slipping down from time to time.
    Some people shout and scream and then shout somemore and then they cry and scream again,like my sister,they breakdown loudly for the world to hear.
    And then there's me,the violent kid,
    when people like me breakdown
    They shout ,scream,cry and they love violence

    I ,for instance, will throw anything within my hand's reach
    I will smash them and break them because I Believe they shoul feel the same way I do.
    inanimate objects breaking down.

    Then there are people like my best friend
    Who will breakdown both physically and mentally.pushing themselves till tey crack.
    Doing everything with twice the intensity than usually required.
    My best friend in particular would raid the gym and try to kill herself herself
    hypothetically.
    she would train till her limbs are ready to drop and every single hair is out of place,and her eyes are aching and her head is pounding and she's barely able to hold herself up.
    And I would let her breakdown for I know thats how life works.
    It breaks you and then makes you

    And then I would go to the gym and she would be lying on a treadmill,panting and she would see me and smile,
    and I would smile
    And that's how we'd know everything will be fine
    It isn't now but it will be.

    But breakdowns are not always fleeting moment of rage and grief, atleast not always fleeting.there are chronic breakdowns too.the kind that can last for days or months or even years,the kind that seems like they'll never end.
    Those are the breakdowns that scare me the most because they are the breakdowns that break one's soul.

    I personally have only ever known one person going through that kind of chronic breakdown
    And that person lived in the exact same house, i was going to, to attend the most spendid Christmas dinner banquet held in the entire town .
    Well,Shit.

    Read More

    Breakdown

    Chronic breakdowns



    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 1w

    7 nights : 3 A.M.

    White colored nightmare
    Same dream
    But a different kind
    Same people
    With different faces
    Same story
    Traumatized menaces

    Not quite dead
    They were dying
    Woke up screaming
    To the sound of crying
    Glad to know they were
    Just spirits trespassing

    A butterfly
    Lost its wings
    And the nightangle
    For the last time sings

    He left the town
    I lit a candle
    It burnt me, I drowned
    He's fine
    Coming back around
    Not a dying voice
    Just a dying sound



    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 3w

    There's too much caffeine and adrenaline inside me to make room for sleep
    I feel alive in the dead of the night
    A restless moth in a burning flame
    I wish I hadn't drank that coffee or debated wether the universe was male or female.
    I wish I was a normal teenager , one who
    thought that possessing a tinted lipbalm was a necessity in surviving as a teenager under female species
    And not someone who goes to every length possible to make sure she has a paper and a pen/pencil with her wherever she goes.
    I am liquescent
    And I have a tendency to go awry when the esplanade has just become straight
    I take "back to track" as a phrase equivalent with "lose your way"
    It was all the same to me
    It is so plain and obvious and yet nobody sees it .
    Sees the fact that I am free as a butterfly
    And That they should not try because they cannot pin me down.
    I flutter around in their world and in a world I consider mine . With my thoughts my words and my rules.
    In times when I simply go into the quietude , I am not ignoring them or being pretentious or serious for that instant,I have just withdrawn myself out from their world because I want to spent time in my world.its that simple
    Please go your way.
    ~ a small request.
    Find your world
    And stop interrupting me when I am in mine.



    @writersnetwork@sakin7@fateman@haileyoneal

    Read More

    The land of mind

    In times when I simply go into the quietude , I am not ignoring them or being pretentious or serious for that instant,I have just withdrawn myself out from their world because I want to spent time in my world.






    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 5w

    Children are ridiculous
    They draw pink elephants
    And colour oceans green
    And paint the sky the hue of honeyed marshmallows
    They make boring grey cats
    Look like creatures who created rainbows
    And dye leaves turquoise midnight blue
    And they are always stubborn to believe
    That Santa Claus exists
    Maybe he does
    For them.

    When you were a child
    You used to colour beyond the lines
    Colouring bananas red
    And beaches purple

    You were infinite,
    Until......
    You were told to colour within the lines
    Told that the sky was always blue
    And leaves should be coloured green
    That the skin is always fair
    And lips forever red
    And when they assumed you were mature enough
    They declared to you that Santa Claus didn't exist
    And he didn't
    From that day onwards
    Because you stopped believing in him.

    But you see,
    They were mistaken
    Because the universe hates disappointing those who have faith.
    Ask them who still believed in all the magic,
    They have seen the honeyed sky
    And rainbow cats
    Seen leaves stained raspberry pink
    And swam in green oceans
    And for them,
    Santa Claus still prevails
    Maybe with a neon green beard.
    So the next time,
    You paint a picture
    Or forge an art
    Wonder afar from the lines

    Because I,
    I would love to see Pink elephants
    And kiss blue lips
    And eat the red banana
    I would cherish a stroll through the purple seashores
    And watch emerald sunsets

    In the end,
    Be ridiculous.
    That's how we used to be.

    @writersnetwork.

    Read More

    Pink elephants and blue lips

    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 7w

    Have you ever felt stuck
    Felt like everything around you is in motion
    Time is flowing
    Silence turns into noise
    Dawn is breaking
    Smiles are fading into frowns
    Frowns into smile
    Fists are unclenching
    Eyes are opening
    Someone somewhere has just taken their first breath
    But you are still you
    Stuck in the darkest hour of the night
    The infinite valley of uncertainty
    Time is frozen
    Screams stuck in your ears
    And you feel the barrier break
    The tears glide down
    From your lower eyelashes
    And drop gently inside
    To your outstretched palm
    And then
    Everything erupts
    You raise your head towards the sun
    But you only feel the darkness
    Getting thicker, blacker, deadlier
    Everything strives for balance
    To give you have to take
    That someone somewhere has also breathed their last
    You close your eyes and smile
    This is art
    Art is in pain
    Not pleasure
    And solitude, not loneliness is its birthplace
    The ache deep within you
    Is what keeps you alive
    That life is pain
    And death is numbness
    And you were never numb
    You are not a dead soul walking alive
    They feel no pain
    Hence couldn't perceive pleasure
    You are aware of your mistakes
    Your flaws
    Your wounds
    Your cracks
    Your imperfections
    Your scars
    And you reminisce about all the people
    You consider extraordinary
    And become aware that of all the things you have in common with them
    Are your
    Mistakes
    Those you have learned from.


    Do I need to say how much I liked the gift
    Because honestly,
    I don't have words...........
    And that is a rare occurrence.

    Read More

    Stuck

    This is art
    Art is in pain
    Not pleasure
    And solitude, not loneliness is its birthplace
    The ache deep within you
    Is what keeps you alive

    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 9w

    I always wondered
    What kind of bush the people who say life can change in the blink of an eye are beating around?

    When I deeply think about it, I can hardly create a scenario where my life changes because of a few
    Seconds
    It's hard to
    When you haven't witnessed these life-changing moments anywhere except in books

    Why then in real life such things appear so.........
    Unreal

    That I keep hoping someday one of those many little things in the universe would potentially happen to me.

    I know I am being selfish
    And in between this selfish rant of mine
    I often forget to be grateful

    Here's to that forgetfulness :

    First, for the words
    Second, for those who hold them
    Then, for love
    And to those
    Brave enough to give it
    And not expect it
    Third, for the process
    Next, to the end
    Cheers to the beginning
    Then to the lovely hatred
    Fourth, I would like to thank
    The discomfort and
    The unwelcomed pain
    Fifth, and let me finish
    To the numbers
    The labels
    The status quos
    The stereotypes
    The conspiracies
    And the theories told
    Thanks to you
    And to this marvellous feat
    For by thanking you
    I proudly deny to you
    My defeat.

    Read More

    Reconnaissance

    Gratitude




    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 9w

    Coincidence?
    Maybe not
    The only words
    That sneaked out
    Were heart-rending
    Those that should've
    Never been said aloud
    But there were more
    Words that held
    The truth before
    My made up lies
    The words that
    You so adamantly
    Ignored and subdued
    And when my eyes
    Witnessed the betrayal
    I started to rant
    Pushing things towards dismayal
    But Oh! How I failed
    And my tears came too late
    So our bond sailed away
    Away like the tidal wave

    And the next day
    Rose the smiling sun
    Dried up my tears
    We searched for fun
    But somewhere inside
    I wouldn't know where
    A little of you died
    Even though you never knew
    You lived inside

    And

    Thus began the horrid pretending
    It was 28th and in sank the feeling
    That the love I needed
    Was from the beginning
    Till the end
    the corpse of who I thought
    Was a real friend.





    #wod#pod#writersnetwork#writersbay#miraquill
    @blurryface__14



    "Yeah, it took me some time, but I figured out
    How to fix up a heart that I let down
    Now, I'm searchin' every lonely place
    Every corner callin' out your name
    Tryna find you, but I just don't know
    Where do broken hearts go?"
    ~1D

    Read More

    Coincidence

    Coincidence?




    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 10w

    #wod#pod#art#fake#practicality


    "Go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward.

    You will have created something."

    ~ Kurt Vonnegut



    Hope you get the message......

    Read More

    Art

    They starve me
    From what I am
    Most hungry for
    They tell me
    To stay put
    Amd not to devour
    That for which I exist
    They lure me in
    Through false convictions
    And tempt me
    To eat sense
    They snatch away
    My suntenance
    And give me bland
    Bowl of logic
    Topped with nightmares
    But I slowly fade
    Into the oblivion
    Eaten by my own hunger
    Amazed by the
    Never-ending void
    the desire to taste it
    stretches till it explodes
    And I all but devour
    What they starve me of
    It slipped from their mind
    That I was art
    Starving for art itself.


    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 11w

    You start off the day with an upheaval
    Of your already weary
    But somehow young soul
    You roll the tip of your pen
    Across papers of sorts
    Writing the words
    You cannot comprehend

    You sigh out
    The tedious, monotonous presumptions
    Of the world around you
    And breath in the
    Faint scent of hope
    Mingled with coffee

    You see meaning
    In the meaningless
    Awaiting the meaning of whole

    You witness the murder of imagination
    At the hands of brilliant minds
    Already imaginatively bankrupt

    You drag yourself through the hedious alley
    Of dark secrets,
    Deep wounds,
    Unhealed scars,
    Bleeding emotions,
    Salty smiles,
    gut wrenching cries,
    And the demonic cult called life
    With your head held high.

    You skid to a halt
    When you reach the exit
    Only to be dragged back again
    Where all of this started

    You find the questions
    To those answers you have been seeking
    You realise time isn't a factor
    And life isn't the perpetual phenomenon
    Of suffering
    alone.

    You are all that you have
    And love is your only source of energy

    It is then where words come alive
    And imagination dances
    at the edge of your consciousness

    You know your today
    Is someone's tomorrow
    You are a sense , a reason , a value

    The world is matter
    And you are that small particle of antimatter
    Counting backwards to your annihilation.
    You are a force
    And the world is as ignorant
    As Newton was
    Before he discovered gravity.


    #excerptfromabookiwillneverwrite
    #wod
    #pod
    #spirituality
    #diary
    #stealthewords


    P.s. : I seriously had no idea it was this long����

    @refarayouknowwho
    @princessfuzzy

    Read More

    Force

    The world is matter
    And you are that small particle of antimatter
    Counting backwards to your annihilation.
    You are a force
    And the world is as ignorant
    As Newton was
    Before he discovered gravity.


    ©naqsaif

  • naqsaif 14w

    You were only ten
    And I was your favourite
    You had me hidden
    Under your brown curls
    Smiling like an idiot
    From ear to ear
    The stories inside me
    They made you smile
    At night when your
    Friend's couldn't


    Another trip around the sun
    You knew my words
    I turned a little weary
    But you kept me closer


    You turned thirteen
    Chaotic hearts and
    Exaustive friends
    But you still had me
    In your windowshelf
    You still quoted me
    In your diary
    Three years and
    Still going strong

    Then you turned fourteen
    And all your curls were gone
    Made new friends
    But I was the one you lost
    My words noticed it all
    Kept silent
    Had a great fall

    One day you turned
    To me and complained
    Ignorance was a bliss-
    I had attained

    But I was a storybook
    And I had a ...............



    TO BE CONTINUED......



    @v_smita_v
    @mirakeeassistant
    @miraquill
    @writersnetwork
    @writersbay

    #nostalgia#memories#stories#childhood#cliff#friend#lost#found

    "You can't blame me, darling
    Not even a little bit
    I just hope you see me in a little better light
    Do you think it's easy being of the jealous kind?"
    ~ to be so lonely

    Read More

    Storybook

    Then you turned fourteen
    And all your curls were gone
    Made new friends
    But I was the one you lost
    My words noticed it all
    Kept silent
    Had a great fall

    But I was a story book
    And I had a ...............




    ©naqsaif