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.


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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

 

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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