356 posts
  • my_mind_my_outpour 6h

    #I painted..and you inked

    I painted your life with colours...
    You inked them with pain!
    I embroidered your fabric of life with sparkles of love..
    You inked them with poetry of hatred!
    I carefully selected the sparkles of joy and togetherness..
    You inked them with doubts and darkness


  • my_mind_my_outpour 16h

    The hatred and doubts in a relationship are just like a ghee in fire....it destroys everything!!#mirakee#hatred#pod#writersnetwork#unreality@boy_in_black@viraj_g@danny_a@dhairya_awe@endofeternity@findingshiro

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    The fire of jealousy and doubts,
    burnt the beautiful album of memories embroided with love.
    Kindled the power of hatred,
    forgot the magic of predilection!!

  • sandhu_anil 22h

    Love these days

    Fallacious relation is an enigma that engenders the illusion of love and consequently leads to enmity.


  • my_mind_my_outpour 1d

    #Saath n choda

    "Kabhi saath nahi chodunga tumhara...humesha saath rahunga tumhare saath!! Iss dil main raz karoonga..saya banunga tumhara"
    Huh aaj bhi voh baatein gunjti hain jo mere kano ko 2 saal pehle sukoon de gayi thi....Aaj bhale hi tum mere sath nahi hon..parr kahin n kahin tumne jo bola so kiya....
    Sharirik aur mansik saath toh chod diya parr yadon main aaj bhi datein hon jaise pehle din se thay!!!


  • kishan_writes 3d

    All those endless nights, with thoughts provoking you about new emotions are what make you realise your true self. Have you ever looked into your soul at 3am and asked yourself what you are,  and what's that one thing you desire the most in life?
    This one thing can cause you an extreme feeling of euphoria which can probably be the happiest moment in your life.
    On the other hand,  you may be guided into complete sadness,  with thoughts about the something,  or the someone you desired for, all this while. But couldn't achieve, or couldn't hold on to.
    In my case,  raw and intense agony holds me from sleeping during these 3am time periods.
    Sharing your feelings is the best way to release the stress you have,  and so I want to keep you hooked up to my story about this someone,  who had meant the world to me. Saying that I had my world in my arms wouldn't have been wrong.
    This someone I had met just a year ago, and she had occupied what I call this rather emotional piece of mechanism called the heart.
    Emotions are the form of art that can either stay constant,  or can change,  and it varies from person to person,  from heart to the mind. My heart conveyed to my mind, that yes.  I had found my other half in more or less a lesser time than others do,  and thankful as I was,  I decided that she,  would be my unique piece of art.
    Euphoria was what I called this feeling.

    Crimson morns,  starry nights, everything passed,  but there were just no fights.
    Freedom prevailed,  the memories were inhaled.
    Raw jokes were cracked,
    Neither of the hearts felt trapped.

    Conversations long,
    Sweeter than any morning birdsong.
    Random rendezvous,
    From malls,  to the zoos.

    Dues were paid,  memories were made,
    I wouldn't have been prouder of any other of my serenade.
    Our phones never hung up,
    Be it mom, or the morning alarm ranting,  "wake up! "

    Things were going fine,
    Purer than your finest Rhenish wine.
    But Romeo and Juliet couldn't last long,
    Solitude,  and slow unrhythmic talks replaced the gentle birdsong.

    Two little birds,  flew high up in the sky,
    But their wings were slashed, by this poor fake guy.
    There exists nothing called a best friend,  today I say,
    All this just because of broken trust, I couldn't further remain gay.

    Truths were deemed to be lies,
    The birdsongs were replaced by her mournful cries.
    The third person held her hands,
    And promised to take up her monthly errands.

    The lover,  here he lay,
    With sorrowful eyes,  tears which never faded away.
    Hearing of the trustfall he became a monster,
    For all his hardships, he cursed his creator.

    She didn't go away, she came back again,
    With dreadful scars, which displayed her pain.
    He pledged to destroy the intervening party,
    But in the end, she felt nothing for him but apathy.

    He tried his best,  but little he could do,
    Hearts change, love turns to curfew.
    He tried to gain back her sympathy,
    But he used lies, alas! He knew no telepathy.

    The lies brought about torn threads,
    Trust,  Now lied in broken ends.
    The threads could never be joined,
    All the promises made were completely foiled.

    They now lied in ruins, 
    The love exists, but maybe only in his heart,  which wanders like  Bedouins.
    His love lies in pieces,
    But still exists, until these days.

    Now he stands strong,
    Secretly watching over, even if she was his fathom.
    Both of them have someone new, 
    But hearts can't deviate sometimes, you think so,  don't you?

    The long conversations never had a last goodbye,
    These days, greetings are not exchanged, not merely even a "hi".
    True ignorance prevails, what should lie at our feet,
    You know,  true love is like diamonds, found several feet deep .


    #love #guilt #hatred #end #mirakee @writersnetwork

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  • sweetie_subi 3d

    Emotional disconnection

    Live a life where you are emotionally disconnected. Emotionally disconnecting would help you find peace in chaotic scenarios. Peace is more than anything else.


  • inkwordsandthoughts 3d

    Jealous is the word which is Unknown to me.


  • meprisable_me_always 3d

    Hearts wide open
    Bare in hands
    Its how people walk everyday
    Open to love someone
    Open to find peace
    Open to share their darkness
    In hope to find light...
    But in this walk
    In this hope
    Broken hearts and deep scars
    Are what they get in return...
    Problems, situations, feelings, emotions
    Shattering people with depression
    Amnesia in head
    Bandages on heart
    Is the result with regard...
    Let's love...date...break...shatter...and die
    What's with the heart...it cries so high...

    Says the Greek mythology...
    "Humans were made
    With twice their initials
    Four hands , four legs , four eyes
    Everything was built in twice
    But afraid of growing power of their
    Zeus divided them in half
    Since then...
    Soul mates are what
    The real God made humans are
    Coz on meeting they challenge Zeus
    And are their other half..."

    Says many people...
    Why don't I believe in love
    What am I so hateful about in it..
    Well, it's hatred or fear
    Either way
    Philo phobia is my say...
    Scared is what I am
    Of that world
    Of that feeling
    Of that time
    When that person
    We find our soul mate in
    Murders you from witten
    And leaves your heart naked
    Wrapped in blood of broken trust...
    I hate it when
    Lonliness bangs my door
    Threathens my spirit
    And kills the soul

    It's more of a fear
    Which stops me from touching LOVE...
    Because a heart
    Once broken
    Is just a barren land
    No one sees it
    No one loves it
    As it loses it's potential to do it
    And grows with the fear
    Of being used and then thrown away...


    #my_weirdo_thoughts #love #hatred @ritika_1462 @fairy_to_fiend @anandarupa_chakrabarti @_theradiantsoul12_ @dil_ke_alfajj @not_just_quotes @from_soulless_to_soulful @un_emotional @writersnetwork @readwriteunite

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    Ever wondered about the people who don't believe or accept the fact of true love? Ever thought about their such stoned hearts?

  • striving_revert 3d

    My excess love became the reason for his hatred.

    Once the immense love and care that I showed towards you made you to love me unconditionally.
    Now,the same excess love and care have made you to call me, "An Irritant".
    Where did all the love you had for me once, go?
    How could you even forget those talks and actions of your love?
    Is it my fault to be always available for you,just for you to consider me as an irritant at last?
    Am I an unworthy idiot?
    Don't my love has its own worth and value?
    Did the unconditional love die?
    How can you change all of a sudden?
    Don't you love me?
    Everytime you ignored me, I consoled myself by thinking that eventhough you have stopped caring, I will always love you with all my heart till eternity and will be showering my true love and care on you.
    My love for you has no ending.
    I miss the old you,the one who cried thinking not to lose me,who treated me as a baby,who even made me to eat at right time, who made me feel loved and as the Luckiest and blessed girl on the earth.
    Now you left me with nothing but broken heart and soul.
    It was never my mistake for giving you all my love and saving it ONLY for you.
    One day you'll feel my love.
    I'll receive your love again.


  • nightwolf 4d


    I took my broken pain
    and laid it in a cradle;
    I hid it from the world
    in the dark corners
    of my secluded dwelling,
    caressed it tenderly,
    and fed it bite sized bits
    of anger and contempt,
    until it blossomed
    the most beautiful hatred
    I have ever known.
    It stretched forth vines
    -gnarled and twisted-
    with barbed thorns
    that clung 
    to my every limb;
    enshrouding me in a dark
    and comfortable nirvana.

    How I hate
    how much I love
    my hatred;
    the only genuine gift
    I can give freely.

    ©Nightwolf 2018

  • puffin 1w

    I'm an atheist,
    But that doesn't make me rude.
    Keep on trucking, theists,
    By all means, you do you.

    But I don't appreciate
    Being painted as the villain.
    I'm not broken nor filled with hate;
    For the most part, I'm just chillin'.

    I'm not ignorant of theistic ways,
    As I was raised in a faith.
    (No, some disaster did not turn me away;
    Skepticism caused my belief to abate.)

    My life isn't hopeless and devoid of meaning.
    Insofar as purpose, my minutes are teeming!
    I'll only have a short time before I grow old,
    So every second I value more than gold.

    But why the misconceptions?
    Why am I a scrooge?
    Is it really so harmful to the church's perceptions
    To honestly consider what I see to be true?

    How am I the aggressor?
    How am I the oppressor?
    How do I make life arduous?
    How am I the institution
    When in seven state constitutions
    I'm banned from running for office?

    I'm not evil, I just disagree with a notion.
    I don't censor, judge, nor punish
    Other people who live in devotion.
    What do these misinterpretations accomplish?

    Do you really need an enemy to feel united?
    Why am I your token scapegoat?
    It's not enough to leave me uninvited --
    My rights you're compelled to demote?

    I'm just trying to coexist,
    But your hatred still persists.
    Stop with the abuse.
    You may think you have an afterlife to spend,
    But I think my days will come to an end.
    There's no excuse,
    When you take my limited days by calling me a cad,
    You're stealing from me the most valuable thing I have.

    That is, time.
    It's made precious by its scarcity.
    I'll do all I can with mine,
    And work against any adversity
    So that when I slip into that sleep --
    For an eternity, I assume --
    I can go in peace,
    Knowing I've done all I can do.


    #atheism #god #religion #hatred

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    But I don't appreciate
    Being painted as the villain.
    I'm not broken nor filled with hate;
    For the most part, I'm just chillin'.

  • kaurageous 1w

    Her Silence

    The one who could not stop herself from talking ,
    today with his gift of ignorance wishes to remain silent !

  • fahimbukhari 1w

    Between the walls of hatred, there was love burried somewhere in it.


  • mkandres 1w

    Burial Plot

    Being the daughter of a real estate mogul sure had perks. As I pumped gasoline into my shiny red sports car I grinned with glee. Daddy had made some lucrative investments recently and they thank the Lord above, trickled down to me. I was fortunate to reap those benefits. Or, perhaps, deserving was a better word.

    Placing my stiletto heel on the back bumper, a groan escaped my delicate white throat. "Damn, run," I had complained. My sheer black stockings were ruined. Catching a glimpse of myself in the vehicle's rear view mirror, I tossed my long blonde hair to the side and admired my porcelain-doll features. I was gorgeous. The boys at Bridge Academy were going to love me, but I was looking for a man, not a child.

    "Oh, baby," I heard him exclaim. "Look at her." The long, low whistle that I had grown accustomed to quickly followed.

    "Mmmm, let's go check out the goods," another male voice had replied with a not-so-suttle guttural laugh.

    I had grinned, giddy from the attention, enjoying the playful turn on.

    Replacing the gas nozzle into its receptacle, I turned to find two older men, much older compared to my seventeen years, rushing toward me. Looking back, I'm not quite sure how or why I thought they were older, just women's intuition, I suppose.

    They were moving fast. Much too fast. Both were wearing black clothing; pants, long-sleeved shirts and ski masks.

    Ski masks? In August? In Texas?

    "What in the world?" I remembered screaming vividly as one of the men hit me upside my left temple with his tightly-balled paw of a hand.

    "Sweet Daddy will pay what he owes when he finds out we have his little girl," the second man's lisping spittle landed across my tight cheekbones as the parking lot shimmered, swayed and went dark.


    Stifling heat. I could feel my skin prickle, almost squeezing my insides as a boa constrictor would squeeze its prey. Perspiration poured down my face, neck and chest. I couldn't see it. I just knew. I couldn't see a thing. Nothing. Pitch black enveloped me; threatening to take over my mind, heart and soul. The aching throb in my temple was becoming louder and louder, filling the obviously small space in which I lay.

    Shaking my head slightly from side to side, I tried to clear my foggy brain and thoughts. What had those men done to me? Why? Why me? Every fiber of my being told me this was no random act of violence.

    Neck muscles straining, I lifted my shoulders and head just a fraction of an inch. My nose touched the top of my enclosed Hell. I pushed and pushed and pushed. I began to scrape and scratch. Pain radiated down both wrists and traveled through to my elbows as three long fingernails tore off into the quick. I could feel tiny splinters embedding themselves into the fleshy parts of my hands, like a rabid dog ripping me apart.

    Tears rolled. I knew I must look hideous, mascara staining my pretty face. Oh what a sight to behold!

    I needed light so I could see myself. I was expected at Bridge Academy in the morning.

    My stomach began to growl. How long since I had eaten? How long had I been here? Short puffs of breath came faster and faster. The air seemed thick; rancid.

    I tried to slow my breathing; think rationally. My mother had always been good at that, thinking rationally. It had never been my strong suit, nor Daddy's. We had been lost without her after she died. Lost, until Daddy had become a financial success.

    Mother's patient, yet sweet urgings made Daddy the man he was today, in my opinion. Whenever Daddy had something on his mind, he would run it by her. If she felt his latest project had merit, she would say, 'Do or die.' I laughed aloud now at that expression but felt Mother's sweet urgings from the grave. My grave.

    I still needed some source of light. I tried to straighten my legs a bit to kick out the end of the wooden box but all attempts failed. My body was becoming weaker, the air more sparse.

    I coughed, my chest heaving with spasms. God, I could go for a cigarette right about now! Wait! I am so glad I never gave up smoking! I had heard all the lectures about how smoking is bad for your health but, Hell, being buried alive is pretty damn bad for your health too.

    Fishing through my skirt pockets, I clutched my chrome cigarette lighter in shaking hands. Flicking the striker with my thumb, a faint blue spark filled the rectangular wooden box for a minute instance.

    I flicked again. And again. And again.

    "C'mon, dammit!" I screamed. "Come on!" I clutched the object tightly in one hand, took a deep breath and flicked the striker once more. I almost dropped it in my excitement as the flame caught and held.

    The small sliver of fire seemed almost mystical as beautiful oranges, reds, blues and even greens danced in my hand. I had never seen such a brilliant display. I was on the verge of a hypnotic trance.

    'Do or die,' I heard my Mother's voice reverberate off the wooden walls. 'Do or die.'

    Flinging an elbow over my nostrils, I held the small silver lighter to the spot I had clawed at earlier. Patience was a virtue, I had heard someone say once. Now I fully understood what that meant.

    After an eternity, or just a few minutes, I did not know which, I could see, hear and actually taste the wood burning. The small circle was becoming larger and larger as the fire darkened, changing the wood's integrity. I began to cough and gag as smoke slowly filled my lungs.

    Then, it hit me. Excruciating pain. An iron grip squeezed my lower right calf and would not let go. A Charlie horse. The cramp lasted several moments. I gasped, coughed and writhed in agony. Unable to contort my body in directions it needed for comfort, I bit my lip and prayed. Salty blood covered my tongue. My stomach gurgled in protest.

    "Don't throw up. Don't throw up," I commanded myself. I willed my stomach to settle and continued on with my task.

    I was perspiring again, this time more profusely. As I wiped damp hair from my stinging eyes, the cigarette lighter slid through my fingers, falling with a THUD that echoed through my coffin.

    I cried.

    I sobbed.

    I thrashed about like a temper-tantrum-throwing two-year-old. I couldn't do this. I wasn't made to handle situations like this. I took another deep breath and punched my fist at the wood in raw, deep, hatred. Hatred at Mother for leaving me to handle this alone, hatred at myself for not being stronger and hatred at the two men who had caused this entire mess, obviously due to a case of mistaken identity.

    I punched and punched and punched. The wood gave way beneath the force of my knuckles and, unbeknownst to me at the time, more than lumber was cracking and breaking. Adrenaline began to flow as did deep, dark soil.

    I was able to maneuver my face from the dust and grime that ensued but panic clutched my throat with cold, steely fingers. Had I done the wrong thing? Should I have done something differently? It was pathetically too late now. Dirt was flowing fast and furious.


    The next coherent memory I had was walking down Tolley Lane. A car horn was honking.

    "Get off the street, lady!" a man was yelling. "You homeless people need to get a job!"

    Homeless? I wasn't homeless. I was going to Bridge Academy, the private school for the well-to-do, the brightest and the best.

    Reaching my hand up to smooth my hair, I found it tangled and caked with blood and dirt. My skirt was tattered and torn. My legs scratched and bleeding.

    Everything came flooding back to me. The gas station, the men in ski masks, the one with the lisp saying, 'Sweet Daddy will pay what he owes ...' And the grave; that horrible burial plot.

    I turned onto Harner Avenue, where Daddy and I had lived for the past six years. We had moved in shortly after Mother's death. A fresh start, he had said.

    As I approached the house, I noticed my little red sports car in the driveway. I was confused but I just wanted to be inside, to take a hot shower and to call the police.

    As I quietly opened the front door, I heard my father's voice.

    "You did well, Maurice," he was saying. "No one will suspect that I was the one who plotted and planned this. The life insurance papers will be in the mail tomorrow morning; I can pay off those drug goons, and you, of course, and still have enough money left over to move to the Caymans." He chuckled easily; happily.

    "Oh, yes, no more paying for expensive cars, clothes or schools. I can spend my money on the one who counts the most. Me!"

    I listened as sadness filled my chest. Daddy? Daddy was behind this?

    I heard a long exasperated sigh. "Yes, trust me will you? I told you, I got away with it six years ago when I killed her mother Julie. No one's ever pointed a finger in my direction."

    I looked around the foyer for a weapon; anything. Emotions overwhelmed me. Shock, disgust, sadness, betrayal. I cannot begin to describe the depth of my heartache. How could I face this man? No, this monster!

    Atop a stack of car magazines on the side table sat my cell phone. Pink case, bling-bling up and down the sides. Forget cars, clothes, hair and bling. All I cared about now was justice.

    'Do or die, baby,' my Mother's spirit urged as I dialed 9-1-1.


  • breaking_bad 1w

    The craving for you is a never ending phenomenon.

  • angelapaul 1w

    Amore Tradito

    You know what's rude ?
    Pouring your heart out to someone and then getting the blame of betrayal,
    That's rude.
    Tell me you don't feel it,
    Tell me you don't feel that we have something that you are so eager to destroy ?
    You are ruining me.
    Those kisses, they never meant anything to you ?
    Was it only me in this delusion, as you say ?
    Everytime you let me go, I come back to you, falling for you all over again.
    If you don't care then why did you want me to be your girlfriend when you clearly chose her over me ?
    So, this is really the end for us...!!??


  • quoteinterest 1w


    It is easy to find and do the two letter word for a life change


  • quoteinterest 1w

    A comical character
    A herculean terrorist
    A supporting pillar
    A notorious earthquake
    Explains a new strange friendship


  • quoteinterest 1w

    When your blood starts flowing faster and you realise that it doesnt satisfy her heart


  • nivi_kp 1w


    Turned out cold...
    Only because of your words...
    That made my brain hot...!!!