Massacre

Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

There are times when I feel it’s the end,
Whether to my profound happiness or my uncared pain I’m not aware,
I feel like breaking free from this prison of torment within which I’m encaged,
Which feels a task so lucid with my fists clenched and my heart burning
With a perilous fire of rage.

Because I’m tired of a bleeding heart,
I’m tired of my salty tears,
I’m tired of the gloominess I’m enforced to endure,
In this massacre whether I’ll survive I’m unsure.

And even though there are moments when people show they care,
My self-hatred has grown everlastingly that those moments seem unfair,
Because all I do is cause people pain endlessly,
Sometimes I feel the world would be a better place without me.

And that’s when I fall asleep from the excruciating thoughts,
But then I wake up and again go through the same,
My life seems to be slipping from my hands,
But there’s no point of having one for internally I’ve collapsed.

I feel like it’s Groundhog Day,
Where the same insane sorrow sanely I try to treat everyday,
But I’ve tried every way,
No stars are gonna shine as there is no light,
In my gloomy little sky called life.

So for once I’ll follow my heart,
No matter how much it bleeds and helplessly cries for hope,
For once and forever I end your troubles dear friend,
For now to this massacre I put an end.


Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts or drop in any suggestions ❤
You can contact me here and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Originally published on 5th August, 2019

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@theniharikadiaries

The Unwelcome Guest

My conscience was under redevelopment
And I had visitors in the new home I built,
They came and go, some stayed for long,
But the unwelcome guest never left.

The unwelcome guest stayed in the bottom cellar,
Which was there in the pit of my stomach,
Isolated it was, as there was no room
To notice it, with the other visitors.

The unwelcome guest was often hungry,
But it had learnt to oppress its hunger,
Because in the dining room in my heart,
There were other guests being fulfilled.

Until one day, there was silence,
Etching onto the corners of my stomach,
The hunger of the unwelcome guest could no longer be suppressed,
It made its way to the dining room.

The seats were empty and the shadows lurked,
My conscience was now a building out of order,
I have learnt to fix what’s broken and I solve equations I get accidently right,
But the unwelcome guest has cast a shadow so dark,
Every light has ushered out,
The chandeliers in my heart don’t sparkle anymore.

There are no visitors willing to stay,
Everything is intact but nothing is right,
But the unwelcome guest remains ghosted,
Until one day.

As the unwelcome guest wants to take over,
And become the owner of the house I’ve grown till now,
Which though is out of order right now,
With the unwelcome guest pulling the reins,
My home will destroy to ruins.

The unwelcome guest can’t be fed anymore – as it has become the feeder,
It is eating at me and every part I call home
And leaving me with my veins ripped off,

It’s waiting for the pain to become so deep
that it’ll become a habit to master over time,
The only thing I feel would be emptiness,
Because pain would be the habit which will become me,
And the only feeling I’ll ever feel, but yet not a feeling.

The unwelcome guest cannot be defeated,
As hatred is what I deserve,
I have tried too hard to be someone I think I was
But now I know I am nothing,
But a puppet in the hands of this guest I did not invite.

The dining room has turned into an empty stage,
The windows are shut and the roof at a endless height,
The dust of the diner’s footsteps are hiding behind faded curtains,
The path is now paved with broken glass

As the unwelcome guest has become my owner,
My soul is surrendered to that invisible face,
Which has been proving me wrong since the day I believed,
That peace was something I could achieve.


Hello everyone! I had written this one a while back however I am posting it now. This poem is a fictional piece of work, with the concept of ‘the unwelcome guest’ being the central motif, that is a concept, idea, object which repeats itself throughout the text and is hence recurring.

The poem begins with the setting of a well- built house, with the unwelcome guest not being prominent due to being kept buried by the owner. However, gradually the factors the owners held on to for not dealing with the unwelcome guest eventually moved away which paved way for the unwelcome guest to take control, rather than the owner having the chance to deal with the unwelcome guest.

The main motive for writing this poem was to display the disturbing effects of the negative feelings inside us, and how keeping it buried does more harm than good.

Yes, it is important to have a perspective to understand our thoughts and emotions and our very being, but it is alright to not have an immediate perspective about everything, and sometimes feeling your negative emotions is the only way to gain needed perspective.


P.S – Am I the only one who is totally obsessed with the ‘evermore‘ album by Taylor Swift? It feels like it was only yesterday when ‘folklore‘ came out (which I am still not done obsessing with) and now we have evermore. If creating two albums in a year especially the year being 2020 is not an achievement then I don’t know what is.
Check them both out on Spotify here!

And here, I end this post. You can contact me here and I will reply as soon as possible!

Thank you for reading!
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@theniharikadiaries

Even The Healthy Are Sick

Coorna

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

It’s 6:30 in the evening and I am sitting here, in dire lack of inspiration, just trying to write something, anything, even nothing would be satisfying now in these times. It’s terrifying, how an incurable (as of now) virus has shipwrecked every soul breathing. Though I am grateful that all my friends, my family, and every person near and dear to me are blessed and safe, these psychological scars bleed for love and affection, as we self-isolate and stay apart.

Millions of people have been affected by this misfortune, and I deeply hope they heal. However, it is no new statement to say that this virus has affected all physically healthy and blessed as well. We all are emotionally ill, whether you know it or not. I hear them refer to the termed “COVID-19 cases” as “the sick”. But the truth is, that we all are. And the whole world is.

   Every single one in the seven billion of the earth has been affected emotionally.

COVID-19 … It’s in the news, in articles, it’s in every conservation, every small and big talk; if big talk really is a term. I decided to not regularly watch the news, for I found it unnecessary for me to bother me with negativity on a regular basis. I refused to be greatly bothered. I get my updates only through my parents, or if I check them once in a blue moon. But the number of people who have been affected by the virus seems to grow by the day and it has crawled into the city where I live like a silent hurricane and I now check the news more often.

We all are aware of the safety guidelines. But what has affected every single one of us the most is the social-distancing. And whether you’re an introvert, extrovert, ambivert — we all do not like this. The isolation is tough. Times are unpredictable and there is no vision of what lies ahead. It must be remembered that this isolation is crucial and though it is tough, do not give up and do not take the risk.

The virus is not seeking a particular religion, color, sex or ethnicity to attack. It has affected the world as a whole. Hence right now, we all have to stand together as one community, irrespective of our differences. There is a need to stand mentally together.

We cannot refuse to accept that we do feel more negative emotions now. We’re more frustrated than usual if something doesn’t work out as hoped, our routines are fluctuating which affect our energy and interest in working, in spite of it being your passion. We may even project our psychological stress onto our loved ones and get involved in fights, on even the tiniest and insignificant things. We all have been emotionally affected by the virus.

Though COVID-19 is a biological disease related to our physical health, it doesn’t mean our mental well-being is not important. It is as important as our physical well-being. Do not let yourselves shatter from the fear. We are not alone, abandoned or lonely. We all are together. And just because we are physically apart from our loved ones doesn’t mean our hearts are apart. Call them, send them a message, let them know you’re grateful. Talk, not about the virus. Talk so they know that there you are with them and so they forget about the virus’ terrors for some time.

We cannot control negative emotions. They’re gonna be there. They are there. And there’s nothing you can do to make them vanish. But you can always prevent those emotions from controlling you. These scars are going to affect us directly or indirectly, and that is inevitable. The only thing we can do is confront these scars. Confront negative emotions. Because only in that way can we realize the importance of strength, gratefulness, and hope in this battle.

Yes, it is frightening. We are afraid, we all are. And that is completely okay and normal. Breaking the preventive method of isolation just because it is tough, is not worth it and is wrong because social distancing and self-isolation are most effective for the prevention of the virus spreading. But taking care of yourself, not only by washing your hands but by engaging yourself in activities that bring you positive vibes is equally important.

I barely had any knowledge about cooking. I did help around, but I had no major contribution. But during this quarantine I did more, as I learnt more. I finally tried out that chocolate cake recipe I always wanted to! It turned out quite well! Mom helped, though. So right now I’m trying to learn some basic cooking, and I deeply hope to make a proper meal one day without assistance. Music heals me in unimaginable and unexpected ways, so I usually listen to music while doing my homework, as it motivates me to not stop out of boredom.

I read novels like ‘False Impression’ and ‘Everything is F*cked’, and ‘The Merchant of Venice’ is next on the list. I am not able to write as I usually do, but I am trying to do my best to continue and write anything, though it may not be worth reading; and then waiting for the inspiration to strike while I write my best nothing. I have chosen to self-reflect and have resolved to work on myself and become a better and mature thinker.

What I’m saying is soothe your soul with whatever works for you the best and do not confuse physical barriers to be emotional ones. If you’re feeling low or disturbed, you can always talk to your loved ones about it, they’ll understand. We all are under the same cloud right now. And we all can get through this. If you can, stay grateful and strong. It will be alright. Please try not to let fear get the better of you.


Do not let your psychological scars bleed you of hope.


Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe and blessed.

Originally published on Medium through ACorneredGurl. Read here

It’s night.

And the cicada bellows a horror tune,
Into the turbidity of thoughts of the chilled night,
That petrifying screech of intense terror.
And its horror,
Provokes the aeons and alerts their nerves,
With an abandoned pain
Of a long-forgotten tale.
And somewhere the oak leaves rustle,
Perhaps to calm the cicada’s call,
Or to soothe an ear bleeding velvet of woes,
Or to ruffle the rough pages inked with distorted handwritings,
Scratch poetry written loosely,
The pages repeatedly falling down,
As if the God’s way of saying “Nah, don’t write any further”.
Somewhere a broken warrior,
Loses a fight,
In the battlefield of life,
And the cicada is now the sound of vanquished hope,
But the wind is the voice of the Almighty,
Encouraging words of hope beckon this warrior,
To make her realise,
Broken she is,
But destroyed she is not.
The pieces though shattered are a part of her,
If binded well,
The battle ends.
And here I stand amidst this thick haze,
This hazy envelope of the mysterious night,
Foamed with the tales of broken souls,
Valiant, yet short of hope.
Eerie for some, comforting to plenty the night does sound,
But to me it’s sound of the ringing death knell,
As I stand up at the window sill,
And gaze up at the distorted moon,
Purposelessness crawling up my torn skin,
Hopeless eyes of archaic stones,
Shot with the hard-hitting lunar light,
The fire of this plight burns more bright,
My vision blurred,
Eyelashes drooping like showered rooftops,
My heart thuds against my chest,
Heavier than the crashed hopes of my past.
And I then see my destination down,
And feel the desire to taste,
The unfathomable joy of death.
Just one step,
And it all ends.
The final destination,
Of my psychotic pain.

I step ahead and fall,
A feeling I’ve never felt before I feel in my final breaths,
Freedom.
I hope you are happy now,
Do thank me for the boon I’ve bestowed upon you.
I thump down on the concrete ground,
My head hitting this pavement,
Has perhaps overpowered the cicada’s call.
My nerves bursting red in wrath,
I have pooled the pavement with demonic tears,
I feel the freedom through my deadened veins,
You.


Hello guys! So I’ve written this one about my perception of the night and what it symbolizes. The poem is grave, I do agree, and I would honestly love to know in the comment section whether my poems are now getting repetitive concerning themes and if yes, do suggest some topics you would like to read. I am planning to make this blog more interactive.😊

Anyway, this poem is about a person who craves her rightful freedom which has been stolen from her and feels the only way to now be free would be death. The ending of the poem, however, can have many views. In fact, this whole poem can have various perceptions of it. What I intend to believe, is that she wishes to be with someone whom she is not free to, and is so driven by that despair and so disturbed with confusion that she believes that it is impossible for her to be free with the one she wants to be, but wants to be free nevertheless. In the end, her despair overpowers the desire for the initially wanted freedom and she only wants to be free of the gloom which has sadly consumed her life, causing her to commit suicide.

Basically, the message I truly intend to convey is sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is let them be free. Give them their time and space. The freedom of choice and belief. Let them be them and love them for it. Of course, misuse of freedom is extremely wrong, but everyone deserves their rightful freedom to not make them feel like a prisoner of birth. Do share your views and perceptions on this one.


Also read: Before You End Your Life – Writing My Heart Out

And, the writing style of writing ‘You’, in the end was learnt by me through Miss Gabriela M.’s works, who is a US university professor and author of three novels and an exceptional poet.

Also, my friend has too started a blog and I was hoping you guys could take out some time to check it out here.

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Prey

Ruthless rage taking over my bruised body,
No self-control, as you have driven me into this rapt insanity,
Every wee fraction of a second,
When I’m lost in your tormentous thoughts,
Your vile face appears,
And dims the brightness in my welled up eyes,
Glistening due to the salty streams,
Regularly trickling down my cheeks.

And all I can think is..
How?
How did I deceive me into thinking your soul was pure,
Capable of loving me and to be relied on in need,
How did I fall for you unaware of where would I reach?
And now I’m aware what your love truly meant,
I trusted you and had faith in you,
And you betrayed me and left me to pay the price,
Now that I’ve reached a dead end.

My soul’s drooping due to the pain you imparted,
Every acrimonious word you gracefully curse,
From your torn lips burns my body into deeper wrath,
And I’m hurt ah, so deep!

Like a thousand needles piercing the peace of my pumping heart,
Enforcing me to bleed out the unbearable affliction of your so-said ‘affection’,
And my everlasting agony doesn’t seem to cease,
As I hallucinate into wild visions,
Believing my scarred soul deserves to be wounded.

You said that you would hate yourself if you ever made me feel bad,
But you don’t have to do that if even if you mistakenly meant it,
And now I am feeling hurt and I request you to not impose any hatred over yourself in all seriousness,
As I’m all ready to hate you without hesitation.

I was the innocent sheep in your pack of ‘easy’ prey,
But now the wild beast within me,
Has paused its temporary sleep,
And opened my eyes,
And ignited my true fire.
I’m on my way,
To fulfil my demonic desire,
For that’s exactly what you deserve.

And beware me,
Don’t you dare think I’m a easy, delicate person so I’ll be your delicacy,
Because I’m coming for you.

My ever-increasing vengeful conscience,
Wants to hurt you like you had,
I want to fiercely feast on your fiery flesh,
And quench my thirst with the finger-licking blood from your heart,
Which I’ll pull out from your hollow chest and rip apart,
Making you lifeless and alone,
Which is how exactly I felt when you did that to me.

But I’ll take my time.
With my eyes I’ll ensnare your limbs and hands and ludicrous fingers,
Which threatened me to be strangled to death and to rot within my grave,

My control won’t be deadly at first, but enticing.
For I’ll seduce you,
And tempt and allure you into irresistible ecstacy,
And when the time comes,
I’ll tear your body apart.

The sickness of your devoid soul will reside in the saturated blood of your treachery,
And I’ll drain every ounce of it.
And pleasure me with the skin,
Which used to hold me close and caress my shoulders,
Now left hanging from the brittle bones of your meek limbs.
As I get highly drunk on your ravishing red wine,
And my soul satisfies the gruesome greed of your fulfilling blood.

As now,
I’ll be the predator, and you’ll be the prey,
And my splenetic heart shall have its deadly desire,
And suffice with the lucid feast of your succulent bones,
And wrap myself in the comfort of your cries begging for help from your bleeding throat.

As I’ll have my cold revenge,
And bleed you to death.
And finish the deadly vice of your love.
Which you bestow upon your herd of sheep,
Veiled with false truths to conceal your true intentions of wild lust.

So,

Wanna play this archaic game of preying madness?

Babe🖤?


So, I wrote this poem inspired from one of Ed Sheeran’s songs named Don’t‘.

Basically, the main themes in this poem on which I tried to emphasize are Revenge and Betrayal. The poem tries to convey the dreadful desire of revenge which many people at times feel like seeking, due to heartless betrayal of someone’s love and trust. Even though I feel it’s better to forgive than seek revenge, but everyone at times feels like tormenting the ones who tormented them, trying to make them pay for their deeds, to reap what they sowed.

The main reason behind taking revenge is to gain satisfaction that the person who hurt you is hurt too the same way. However, in my perspective, taking revenge just indirectly conveys that you need someone to relate with you and support you, and give you a shoulder to cry on. Plus, revenge can easily lead to guilt, because when we feel vengeful, we do tend to not have a limit of the revenge sought, leading to hurting the person more than they deserve.

Also,

If you torture just the person just like they did to you, what will be the difference between you and that betrayer?

Only forgiveness will make you the better person. Otherwise, the person you take revenge against and you are just equals. And more than forgiving the ones who break your trust, one first must learn to forgive yourselves. It’ll make you feel less burdened and lighter. It’s the only true and appropriate key to peace.

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Dust

Your ample words, and the horrifying motives hidden vaguely behind them,
Act like a sieve for my thoughts and emotions,
My every bit of sanity you’re extracting from my brain,
You are making me lose control as I cry out loud to the forlorn universe in which I’m dying.

My ripped soul’s translucent tears,
Evaporating into the empty voids,
Precipitate the hazy atmospheres of my brains,
And it rains.
It pours heavily.
Their stone-hearted cold criticism floods through my conscience with rage,
With every puddle of anguish within absorbing my mind’s peace.

Yes, I’m different.
My soul’s scarred with a million miserable cuts,
Blood streaming out from these suicidal scars,
Red paintings on my parched skin,
And oh! Such an immense bittersweet relief I perceive,
From these habitual portrayals of huge, red masterpieces,
Painted painfully by my blue-green veins.
The veins which bind me to reality,
But I hate this reality,
because it has you.

Scrutinizing every deed of mine,
So unfairly you treat me and drown me in despair,
Hence today I shall free myself of this reality I’m enforced to believe are of my own choices,

You thrived on the thought that you could control me,
Use me,
Betray me,
Torture me.

But now I will finally be free,
For I shall expose the deadened veins of my neck to fresh open air,
Which I breathed in, and urged me to swallow, and not let out,
The blood I produced in every breath taken in this atrocious atmosphere,
But I shan’t allow myself these bloody lumps of guilt to taste anymore,
I will finally now bleed to my death and your profound joy and rest in your grim grave with pleasure.

My freezing body is collapsed in front of your feet,
I’m making you witness eternal peace,
You walked over my identity, my personality, my feelings and mercilessly hurt me,
You unreasonably desired to gain control over me.

So finally now my mortal body is surrendered to you,
I am dead.
Finally devoid.
It’s so easy

So walk over me,
“Bless me” with your chapped feet,
Stamp on my soulless hollow lungs and shoulders,
And make me bleed my heart out.
Puncture my limbs and eyes out of their places,
Tear my scars and bruises apart,
Wound me deeper,
Snap my neck and torment me further.
Grasp your evil dagger and gleefully into my soul thrust.
Fulfill your lust,
Finish me, demolish me, and crumble me to dust.


This poem is to emphasize on how intense a person’s feelings can get on being criticised on every single thing. The people judging them for everything they lack do not realise that they’re hurting them.

It’s important that people realise that nobody can be perfect or be exactly matching the expectations of perfection, and it is not even required to be perfect. We all are unique and have the right to have our own beliefs and the right to choose for ourselves.

We all have a spark inside us, a reason to stay alive and survive. Embrace yourselves. Nobody can do a better version of you than you yourself. You are perfect in your imperfections. Thrive in your inner beauty.

To all those people battling and struggling in all sorts of wars in their lives, you unknowingly inspire millions of hearts and give them hope and courage. So have courage, have hope, and know you’re the best💞

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