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  • sayoneenandi_ 1w

    Done with you

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    In your eyes

    Narcissistic, to the core.
    Yes, yes she is.
    Craving the spotlight, craving the adrenaline of their eyes watching her.
    Confused? Yes,maybe, it is the affection she craves.
    To be the better of the best and to be the daisy between the rest.
    Craving, beaming, crawling, grabbing, grab the souls and put them to test.

    Be a certain type, look a certain way, her body and her mind all come down to play.
    They are laid out as different accessories, some sparkly and some a little bland.
    Call the blacksmith, this one needs to shine.
    Polish it away, wipe the ephemeral whim off its face, let the spotlight fall on it, on rusty set of chain.

    Bound by need, bound, bound to the core, she needs to rise, rise above the shore.
    Are her words too simple? Too monotonous to pay heed?
    Fix the language, fix her current deeds.
    Everybody wants her this way.

    This way, that way anything but her way.
    Even if she shows spite, they will decide her way.
    After all, she is not her if not for them.
    But why, why should she be?

  • sayoneenandi_ 7w

    I want to die in your arms.

    The thunder in my heart, frankly makes me vomit.
    It is the nonsensical blisters in my mind that make me swirl.

    Not a merry -go-round and not his arms, because those were the feelings of love and enrichment.
    And in my own flesh, I only feel detachment.

    I want to rip my skin off, and scratch my way to the heart, plunge it with a dagger because I feel that would be a good start.

    I feel I might bleed through my eyes and succumb to my mind, because candidly speaking, it would be the best sight.

    My thoughts are like little maggots, running around to find something to eat, first it was mind and now it is my heart's beat.

    They say your heart skips a beat when you look at your love, funny, I think the Lord above must have gotten it wrong.

    My heart skips a beat, not only for love, but for every scene that is created in my thoughts, bad, good and ugly.

    My thoughts have started to choke me, almost wanting me to dive to my death, but then he looks at me and pulls me close in his naked and beautiful embrace, and momentarily, I feel nothing at all.

    And that,for me is true love.

  • sayoneenandi_ 13w

    What a psychopath is, and why he behaves in that way is still a mystery. Having read over a hundred stories and seen hundreds of documentaries. I have come to the conclusion that it is the andrenaline that pushes them to do this, adrenaline of fear, anger, discomfort in their own body and most of all the insanity. A mindless disease.

    Human mind is fascinating, the further you let it roam the harder it gets to tame it.

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    "Death", he said "is lovely".

    I killed a frog and dissected each of its parts and stared at the marvellous display for hours.

    The next prey was a pigeon,each of its feathers had different colours and its eyes turned red as I smothered the remaining breath it was left with.

    So pretty was its wriled neck, twisted and curled, it was a peacock that could never lose it's worth.

    The lifeless body of a deer lay frailey in front of me, I comforted it as it shone through all its beauty.

    My murderous glee knew no bound, I killed a cat and then my heart started to pound, oh joy, so much joy.

    The bloodied hand of a psychopath revelled over his victory, that was his start to his own desultory.

    Delusioned by pleasure, he kept kept picking his prays one by one, till it stopped at the most beautiful creature of all, a human.

    Madness raved and insanity ate at him, till he drowned in the agony, agony of murderous dismay.

    "Death",he said "is lovely."

  • sayoneenandi_ 13w

    What if you stopped.

    Nights getting darker, and your touch warmer.
    Comfort and salvation of love and tranquil.
    Tranquil I say, for it is enticing the way you hold me, the way you look at me.
    Maybe, just maybe when my body is wrinkled and old, when you won't see me in the dark, when my I don't seem funny to you, not even smart,
    Will you stop?
    Loving me that is?
    What if you stopped?
    When Styx flows over my skin, it burns but it is so refreshing, my sins cleansed and my desires multiplied, oh I love you so.

    But what if you are the Styx and you see through my shallow soul and send me away, break me into pieces and burn me to ashes, oh will you love me so?

    What if the flowers I bestowed you with start to die? Oh will you love me so? Even when it is cold and everything is weary?
    What if you stopped? What if you didn't feel like starting again?
    Will you love me?
    Let's see tomorrow.

  • sayoneenandi_ 18w

    So this is the story of two girls,
    Revered by everyone, one was a princess with colours in her cloud. She walked the halls with pride, loved by everyone she was everyone's guide.
    She coloured the paths she walked in with her charm, engulfed everyone in her arms.
    The boy she doted was her trophy, trophy of her triumphant life. To everyone, they were the sparkles in each other's eyes.
    There came a day however, when the boy saw a colourless girl, a girl that camouflaged in the background of the colourful world.
    Caring for nothing and walking without a care, she seemed like the daughter of the word "despair", Though colourless, she shone on her own, like a star without colour, but like the star that took you home.
    Angered and bewildered by his attention fading, the colourful girl shoved her rival on broken shard of glass.
    Soon her world started fading, the colourful girl started to get lost.
    The boy she loved so much, was angered by her most.
    She saw the now blind girl, in the corridor trying to make sense of her life again, but not once did she ask for any help or even seek her perpetrator.
    Angered and sad, the colourful girl walked in the shadow, questioning the blind girl's will to go forward.
    That was the day, she decided she would guide the boy and the colourless girl in a path of only light, the light that she took away and left them to their plight.
    Slowly and steadily she drained her colour to colour hers, and finally she saw the girl and the boy smile in a path full of different hues as she faded from hers.
    (Copyright)@sayoneenandi_ #inspiration #diary #poetry #thoughts #life
    @poemsporn @writersnetwork @worldofwriters__ @artistryarchives @mirakeeworld @indianwriting_

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  • sayoneenandi_ 25w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 3 word micro-tale on Oasis

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    Oasis and dreams

  • sayoneenandi_ 25w


    Was sitting amidst a pile of books, reading and aspiring to be something,
    But now, suddenly a pang of uncertainty looms over, what to do now. What to do next?
    Suddenly, I am aimless again.
    The things I once liked, scare me. The things I was supposed to be good at, now I suck at them.
    What changed?
    What to do next?
    Do I run away? Or do I try once again?

  • sayoneenandi_ 36w


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    A cup of coffee laced with addiction,
    Bitter affection to relief, relief from pain and perhaps the midnight train that I always seem to miss.
    I missed the train that night again for the millionth time but three cups down the line, I choked on my own dreams.
    Perhaps the paths I am choosing are tantalizing enough making me rather unsure of where I want to go.
    But delusional as I am, I kept feeling it was enough.
    So I chugged a little more, who says coffee is nothing like alcohol, it maybe more. Kept me awake at night when I swam across a ocean of thoughts, thoughts regarding which path to take and which to not.
    Does it seem foreign to you? Dreams and aspiration that have no meaning?
    Perhaps it is just me, dreaming without setting a foot outside the line? Is it just my tired body, or my weakened mind that is afraid to get out of the hot pot of the midnight brew, maybe I am not equipped to catch the train after all.

  • sayoneenandi_ 39w

    I followed him through a dark country road
    A bit of a senile thing to do I suppose
    Middle of no where
    With me at a distance following a strange but beautiful man
    Sakura bloomed along the edges
    A bit of a romantic stroll you could say,
    But alas he knew not of me so I just walked with him in all invisibility, a moment I knew would remain as ephemeral as it had started out to be.
    He was a bit of a peculiar man you see, he had been playing vinyl tapes all the way, tapes of mystery, tapes of love and somehow the bitter sweet symphonies made me think, "perhaps", "maybe", they were for the apparent woman walking behind.
    As if he knew I was there.
    But, how could he?
    Neither I existed, nor did that beautiful night.

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  • sayoneenandi_ 40w


    Spring came in an unusual time that year,
    The paths teased new buds and flowers, but the mind of the people passing by , withered.
    A boy between the mundane was different, however.
    He changed the way the weather does and walked within thorns bearing flower pots on his chest and colour in his eyes.
    The mundane felt threatened by that boy, so they strode towards him in their sluggish stead and pulled petal by petal from his blossoming mind. The boy struggled and turned to spring for help, but nature too can't battle the thorns of hearts, so sadly she looked upon her flower being torn, for it is a world where the mundane trumps and the boy with the flowers withers and dies.