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

broken But beautiful

BBB final i guess

Photo Credits – Collosal

                         As we sip our daily coffee, the warm eclair of bitter bliss dances down our hoarse throats of incomplete sleep and periodical insomnia, our eyes are half sunken into our evanescent thoughts fading in and out, us barely awake. We are still dreaming, perhaps this coffee shall render me conscious and out of this REM of my brain cells. But why, aren’t dreams to be turned to reality? The morning chirper squeaks her little tell-tale through the verandah of my dusty apartment. Does she have something to say, perhaps a debt to be paid? A belief which exists narrates such that everything, every moment, every person you meet, every somebody and nobody has a particular purpose in your life. Seeing rebirth and reincarnation as a ‘business of the unseen dynasties’, our immortal souls all owe some karmic duty to someone and the people we meet are either indebted to us or vice versa due to certain dues in our previous births, and the people with which the ‘transactions’ are then complete, leave us. Just simply out of our lives. That soul in that someone’s body is officially done with us, in all cosmic, karmic, witchy-voodoo aspects. Every human connection can be explained thus and provides our inquisitive minds an insight too provoking to be neglected in the face of the boundless knowledge of the vast universe we are unaware of.

But I yet wonder, if someone is ‘done’ with us, the transaction is completed then why is that emotion not the same for me as it was for you, if that certain century-long debt is ultimately paid? If you left me as you got your end of the bargain, why isn’t the same held for me? Why do I still think about you if our bond has inevitably returned to cosmic dust just like my now shipwrecked soul and I am finally free of some ‘debt’? Ironic how our relation was literally some business game to you and to me a journey where we don’t owe each other feelings, but feel out of our own will, love without reasons. But you left as you met someone more business material and me indebted to this agony you’ve overthrown me with as collateral. This coffee will give sleepless nights nevertheless, the birds will screech disturbingly as they electrocute my flesh and bones with the taser of their unbound ecstasy, my ears ring. I’m stuck in this aura of heightened sounds and fluctuating migraines and nothing can change the fact that my very conscience has broken into invisible shadows and bleeding flashbacks.

But I have hope, like that of an innocent child. Not that I want my life to chime like the bell of that ice-cream truck entering into our hustling streets but maybe I just want the calm breeze to bring my mind some peace too, and not annoyance and a tingling itch to my scarred skin. Some purpose. Some meaning. I’m tired of suffocation. Because I will always be indebted to me for all excursions of my eternal soul, and I owe me life, dance, music, food, art, I owe me joy. I owe me love. And happiness is a choice which I shall choose for myself, by myself, through myself. I wanna fall in love with myself and for that I must accept myself the way I am, however I am. Why should I fall into this never-ending pit of self-hatred? I think I owe me love, I think I owe my scars some air, I don’t want to conceal them anymore, they deserve oxygen. I deserve love and I am capable of it, because I am a stronger being after your every pain you try to destruct me with. And I can stand on my feet with bleeding ankles and smile too. I can have a thousand reasons to cry and yet not cry and stay happy. It is all my choice. I can accept my wounds, however they are, I choose the pain to build my self-esteem, and not tear it down.

I’m broken but beautiful.


Hey Guys! So I posted something in this style again and I can’t help denying that I’m finding writing prose more fun than poems. Of course, I’ve kept my resolution, I’m writing more now that I’m on holiday, my examinations have ended! Also, with the Corona Virus pandemic, I’ve quarantined myself with more activities. Please take care of yourself, wash your hands with soap frequently and maintain social distancing. For my extrovert readers, it’s okay, you can get through this. And please do not take the risk of going out as much as possible. There are a bunch of stuff you can do, thanks to the Internet and its billion provisions, you can read a bunch of books, watch movies you’ve always wanted to. Call up your friends and family, keep your hearts close in spite of these necessary physical distances. Spend this solitude as satisfyingly as possible and try to enjoy this quarantine as much as possible.

So returning to the post, that belief does exist and I have not made it up and is known as ‘Runanubhanda’, according to Vedic Astrology, and is an existing physical as well as emotional bondage with our contemporaries. It can help us understand every encounter that happens in our lives with people, from friends to enemies. It reasons ever suffering we encounter in life with a ready made answer in the unfolding of the past life debts, both positive and negative, from our past.

The latter that follows just has one underlying message – you cannot control what you feel. Believe me. You can only accept them and accordingly take an appropriate decision. You cannot change your feelings, numb or suppress them, you can only affect the way you go about your feelings, how you deal with it. It’s okay if you weren’t okay. It’s okay to feel angry, hurt or sad. It’s okay and you do not have to beat yourself up for it. You’re only human, you learn and you grow. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. You are capable of love and it begins from you yourself. There’s a unique beauty in self-love and it’s never too late to fall in love with yourself. You will always be with you in this journey of life. There’s beauty in your scars, your pain, the hurt and you can heal and you will heal. You deserve more than painful love. Life is moving and the healthiest thing for your heart is to move with it.

Just believe in yourself. You’re worth having hope, no matter what💕


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@theniharikadiaries

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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