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 Trance

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

You swallow the words which make you choke,
You burn them and let the fire burn you,
You shriek and scream and wail,
Losing every breath begging for an escape.

Your thoughts collect and intertwine,
The wires of your brain get messier than they are,
The suffocation, the nausea is getting too much to bear,
Your poems are breaking down into puzzles never to be solved.

And you panic.
As the words crawl up to your throat and your soul ignites,
You try to find a piece of paper to write down these lines,
But the world stirs into a nightmare blur,
As your feelings knock at your chest for the first time
After you numbed your nerves.

And you find yourself in a trance again,
Phrasing lines you didn’t realize you felt,
Suffering headaches you didn’t ask for,
Bleeding your veins to feel a purpose.

And it teases your sanity and tazes your skin,
Pokes at your eyes and begs for it’s darkest wish,
You hallucinate realities you don’t want to exist in,
With ending your reality as the only solution.

And you dissolve.
In the taste of age-old wine,
Letting your tongue imprison the superior mind,
And your eyes pour out the crumbled thoughts,
And the scene distorts as your mind pauses.

And you inhale.
The smoke of incinerated selves of your past,
You paint a mirage of victorious shadows,
You try your best to stay still but the scene swallows you,
And you drown in the defeat brought upon by you.

The trance begins and takes with you every sight you hold on to,
It forbids you to move and chains your feet to the ground,
But your head can’t gather the strength to stay at one place,
So you decide to cling to your nocturnal escapes,
Only to welcome the trance again the next day.


“The trance happens when you don’t focus on anything, and the whole big picture swallows and moves around you.

The character ‘Sam’ in the novel ‘The Perks of Being A Wallflower’, by Stephen Chbosky explaining what she called “the trance” to Charlie, the narrator of the novel.

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.

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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

The Business of Broken Worth

Photo

Photo Credits – Film Daily

She sighs,
Her eyes are sunken into dreams she has forgotten to see,
But her face is luminous and her hair shines
With the light she lost within herself.

She drags her feet because her wings are broken,
To that place where her worth is stolen,
Where her tempting appearance and fake smile,
Gives away the dread in her eyes.

She inhales,
The air she is forced to breath,
It suffocates her but sustains her too,
Her evening begins with candle-lights and clandestine rooms,
Where ‘NO’ is a word her throat can never know.

But then the sun rises and it begs,
To conjure some hope as it’s the sun after all,
But even when the sun rises her nightmares do not end,
She is left cold and miserable.
The only make-up you can see on her face now,
Is the dust of broken mirrors.

Her eyes are bleeding
The dreams which were taken away,
Her limbs are too tired to walk any further,
Each day she is losing the light from her eyes,
She was once the queen of fireflies.

And again she is doomed to be dragged into those doors,
To uphold fake smiles and reluctance ignored,
Her fate has imprisoned her with madness unknown,
While her destiny awaits,
To be sold for another night again.


Orginally featured in “The Writers Hub” – a recent initiative presented by LHS MUN and Ankara!

• The Writers Hub gives amateur as well as professional writers, a platform to showcase thier writings to a large and open audience.
You can submit poems, stories, articles, blogs, pieces of any genre free of cost, with no age linit for the writers!
•The writer will get complte credit for thier post.

Click here for details on how to become a part of The Writers Hub community!


Thank you for reading, it is deeply appreciated. My serious inactivity here gives you no reason to comment but feel free to let me know your thoughts on this one and thank you again! 
You can contact me here.

@theniharikadiaries

 

Scarred Nights

brown rocky mountain photography

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

My thickest voids scream into
The toxic visions of reality,
They dwell on the highs and escapes;
As I dive into my consciousness,
And search within the dark waters.
Every corner,
Every cliff,
Just,
One metaphor.
That’s all I need right to describe
My poetic hallucinations.

I am drifted on this island,
where everything I see is controlled by
the puppet master inside my head.
Grey clouds and raging storms,
With swirling letters once thrown away.

I did not choose to envision these disturbing sceneries,
But they happen to be the things that control me.
My insatiable sanity stirs my soul into delusions,
And spins a web of beautiful lies to make suicide seem noble.

I rip the pillow covers of their burden,
of soaking my emotions every night,
The chains break in their efforts
To bar my soul so it doesn’t free itself,
Of the magical metaphors I write to survive.

I maintained hope,
But it consumed me.
My every breath tripped,
Along the crevices of the cliffs
Of high expectations,
I had from myself.
Hope came crashing down
And ghosted itself behind dusty corners,
As I crumbled,
Piece by piece,
Every shred of my sanity,
Being stripped down till nothing but a deep void.

I am told,
Whenever you describe your dark parts in a poem,
Say “demon”.
Defeat them,
And you emerge victorious.
But if I do,
I won’t live to see the party.
Because I am that demon to be erased,
I am the metaphor,
Balancing on my grave.

That World

I wanted to write a poem about hope,
To conjure brightness and mirror them in my words,
To imbibe a optimistic energy in your soul.
So I hoped for hope,
But I could not have hope
and/or hope,
I too don’t know.

I wrote down ideas,
Pondered on poetic forms and devices,
I am told
Use ‘sun’ for happiness,
‘Breeze’ for peace,
Blooming vibrant flower beds,
For growth and positivity.

And I tried,
But words deemed me to be doomed again,
What will I write today?
I thought to myself,
As the ceiling fan stirred the abandoned dust,
What passionate flame shall ignite,
The pulchritude in my words?

And then it hit me and I realized,
I was writing with a blindfold on my soul,
There will be days when I struggle,
But isn’t it the struggle that makes us listen,
What our soul has been trying to say all this while?

Why was I waiting for the words to strike me?
I don’t want to do that.
I do not want the words to find me,
For then I’ll miss out on the joy of the struggle,
After all,
What’s the fun of hide and seek when you’re the one waiting to be found?

And I want to trip over surging waters,
And drown in the endless sky,
I want to question my so-called comfort zone,
And break the norms of imagination.

I want to freely explore the galaxies beyond,
And pluck broken stars to drip them in honey,
And brew rhapsodic stardust.
I want to break the barriers of my mind,
So that I can see the depth of my soul.
I want to capture the fragrance of the first rains,
And store it in a perfume bottle like century-old wine,

Which will be my getaway,
When my soul seeks tranquil air again.
My own personal drug to remind me of satisfaction,
When life overwhelms me with its clever deceits,
And leaves my lungs dried and desiccated.
And I’ll be drained of purpose.

I will inhale the alcoholic bliss then,
And remember how true peace felt like. 
And as the petrichor slowly takes over my body,
Maybe I’ll write a verse or two,
And escape into that world with you.


Thank you for reading!
Open to all suggestions in the comment section!
I hope you’re all well and safe 🙂

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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The Branched Out Souls – Choked to Death

I request every reader to please take some of their time and fully read and share this article. I’ve written this poem in protest against the proposed cutting of nearly 3,000 full-grown trees in Aarey Forest for the construction of a Metro Car Shed.

I was at the innocent age of five,
Deluded in fairylands with faint knowledge of reality,
When I sowed my first seed,
And hoped for it to branch out and bask under nature’s glory.

I used to hydrate the sapling and took care as if my child,
I conversed with it as I believed it possessed a soul,
That soul which provided me a comfort flawless,
I wish I had known that that too I would have to let go.
How unaware was I of the world’s cruelty!

And decades pass by,
My little sapling has matured and is merry with his fellow mates,
And now that I see, through my home’s gallery,
This impeccable token of natural beauty.

I feel as if this terrain is my paradise, my heaven,
With the tall, girded trees as their ruling Gods,
The most generous, loyal and kindest kings to have been in existence,
As nature is the mortal form of God,
And trees, God’s emblem. We’re dependent on them.

And now I’ve grown up further,
As times summon me to achieve my deep desired goals in life.
I feel the paradise and its peace in my lungs in every breath,
But I now reside from my terrain far away.

And years pass by again,
And inevitable habit of time to pass by,
I have blackheads and I’m not much beautiful,
But I’ve fulfilled my desires,
I expect nothing anymore,
My life is now nothing more than mere sweet memories, pure as honey.

And now my heart is weighed down by a mighty regret,
A paperweight on the beautiful life I’ve lead,
And I desire of this paperweight to be free,
I must be on my way and find solace,
And go back in life’s race,
As I travel down those country lanes,
To see my good old tree.

My heart is racing wild and roaring with ecstacy,
As I dive into my profound memories of the apple tree,
The cool shade during my school days,
The homely and tame wind stirring up the atmosphere,
With its heavenly boon comforting every creature.

I hault my vehicle just before the lane,
I’ve decided to walk for I want to slowly observe to suffice my heart,
But everything has changed, nothing’s like before,
Looks like modernization’s hand has touched my neighborhood as well.

But modernization has an unknown paranoia along with other bright outcomes,
And the paranoia which has flooded my neighborhood,
Is the result of massacred trees.

My body has been electrocuted,
As my veins have gone numb as they refuse to bear this shock,
Not only has my most loved branched out soul died,
But my whole leafy neighborhood has been destroyed.

My eyes are wide open and I see no trace of the heaven I hoped,
But only a gigantic posh mall, a cinema hall, and other guilty facilities,
Guilty of the death of the souls, on whose provisions everyone has thrived,
This civilization created is a violation of nature.
A violation of God.

The source for paper, the source of your life,
Every fruit you’ve bitten, every ingested medicine,
Their source is being cut down.
Their minds crippled with paranoia, driven with utmost craze,
The world will fade into a foggy haze.

The branched out souls are shouting at top of their voice,
But we can’t hear their dying cry,
As in our ears, the call of nature
Is completely void.

But we still have time,
To hope for a better world and save our earth,
Let’s not have innocent blood on our hands,
Let’s save these vital trees,
Rather than just cutting them down with ease.

Let’s not destroy the source of life,
Else later we’ll pay the price,
Let’s not unjust evil towards our creators become our vice,
Let’s not write our own demise.


The merciless killing of innocent trees will only lead to inevitable environmental hazards.

Follow:

Instagram: #saveaarey, #saveaareyforest, #letmumbaibreath, AareyConservationGroup

Facebook: AareyConservationGroup

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Suggestions welcome!

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@theniharikadiaries 🙂