Let's not come here?

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  • lighght 1d

    बेनकाब होजा आज तू भी
    शिकायत करनी है तेरे मुखौटो से।


  • lighght 3w

    //Betrayal, S. Betrayal!!//

    And the armour
    we wear for the fight
    Made my demons crave mercy
    In this unholy night

    The patriarch work done
    The filthy dirty hands full of guilt;
    He still walks Barnes & Noble
    He still; follow the grief
    Given by the dead
    Those who fawned abandonment onto him
    Those, who never cared.

    And the blades
    We brought for the fight;
    Were forged with my words,
    Were delicately cursed.

    My pen is a sugary nightmare in per sé
    See if you can loathe the words you see;
    Or are you worthy enough to afford my hate.

    My rivalries found a sword
    To break these blades of mine,
    They were all mine!
    Shepherds, Oakwood & crescent lines.

    Found, O' the treacherous part of your deed,
    Why you were being nice to me,
    Hurting me all along
    Was part of your plan indeed.

    Stop me from calling my demons
    To destroy your existence,
    See if your chivalrous glance
    Holds a stand against me.

    I am not the gal
    Who'll be shredding nightmares into my journals.
    I am not that existence
    Who'll speak to you with no pretence
    My words, dear lover
    They speak out of your budget these days.

    O' my dear solicitor
    The silhouettes you are so fond of liking
    The night you imagined them in your lover
    The act which should be called mighty,
    Considering how you've changed
    You, your self and this maze
    The pretentious act of kindness
    The homicidal look of loathing.

    Hover around my neck
    To see if I'll give a damn,
    Stand beside my rivalries
    That's the crazy thing, innit?

    Then even at the last time,
    I call those demons off,
    I shut down my unspeakable words
    I'll not use the accent you can't afford
    I'll ditch this town only for your remorse.

    @writersnetwork @thenicestbitch @ghoulfrost @alto_spade @mirakee #julietscorner #ceesreposts

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  • lighght 3w

    //The MOMÉNTÓ//

    Where does this road go
    Would it end?
    Or it just goes on

    Where would all this end?
    After my life
    Or after I could really mend.

    Where would this life take me
    To a new form of glee
    Or yet another bar filled with jocks

    Where can I take a halt
    From all this running away
    From all the sufferings.

    Once I had a shoulder
    The place where I could stutter
    The Oblivion where I could splash the water

    I always had a story
    In my past glories.
    And if we don't feed on literature
    We'd be consumed by oak's quenching to hold back.

    Soon we'll be thirty years old
    Soon we'll be thirty years old
    Some must would be seeking out glory
    Some would be consumed by this Oblivion
    Once or twice we would go back to past glories

    My pals;
    Where does this road go?
    Does it end,
    Or does it simply means a new start,
    Would it combine with another road
    Where I'll meet another stranger
    Where I would again, stutter.

    @writersnetwork @fireblast_ @solace @ghoulfrost #ceesreposts #julietscorner

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    I must have you.

  • lighght 4w


    I coughed the labyrinth of words
    Telling me they possess a masterpiece
    Within the cobweb of this mess.

    I soured my self
    I crackled my fingers
    Took a deep breath
    And picked up the pen.

    For I wanted to see
    What this labyrinth holds for me

    It contained the different genres together
    And it was labelled "LIFE"

    *The audacity of giving into another day
    *The fight you'll never win
    *The life you could never have
    *The desire in which you poured liquor again.

    The clusters in the haze
    Were so depressing to hand.

    So, I danced alongside my demons
    I danced as the registered death time fathomed.

    The fear to complete writing everything
    Before you die,
    Holds the power to overcome you all.

    Focus on the fear part
    The dying comes later, my little Vin-cent

    I gave in my all
    Started with a dead tree
    Ended with my limbs outstretched

    I decided to write about
    So I don't end up writing

    The melancholy of lilies
    Spoke past onto me.
    I question my ability
    To speak without stuttering
    Yet I see those lilies
    Answering me with no pretence.

    "Yet this day
    I submerged
    Another book
    I could've written."

    @writersnetwork @fireblast_

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  • lighght 4w


    The solidified enemy of mine
    Picked up the brush against me.
    He fills it with enemies blood
    Paints a portrait of his angst.

    I, his last existing enemy
    With anguish, he came to destroy me.
    The solicitor of devils watched upon us,
    As he picked up his brush
    And I, my pen.

    For he wanted my blood
    To complete his portrait of angst;
    And I, my pen
    To write about this crystal of charade we share.

    The Dark Shade Of Pink
    Turned into the angered wings of demons today
    My pen isn't a sword today
    And his eyes, spills craving to end me.

    For he is the one
    That water'd this hierarchy.
    The legacy of the brush
    The intimacy of a pen.

    He still has blood on his hands,
    Of my parents, and other remnants
    For I, am not a peace-giver
    But I, won't be the one to pick up a sword
    And call it my brush.


    @writersnetwork @shaliya @i_faha @fireblast_ #ceesreposts #julietscorner

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  • lighght 4w

    And when she was dying, she wrote poetries about boys, the trees she sat beneath and the life that was ought to begin.


    Saw you in an elite row
    Of those with their respective foes

    Standing & breathing
    Murmuring about Existence

    The craving I can feel in that black jacket
    To perform a massacre of broken hearts.

    The Kyreille Art Lining in the poetries
    And the Elizabeth Barett style in your sonnets
    What else you think was gonna happen
    Rather than leaving thousands of lovers massacred in their beds.

    Kiss it Off me.
    Your Black Jacket
    Your reminisce of existence
    And your glee.

    As I can't afford to be in an elite row
    As I am not one of your foe.

    Yet you can say
    I'm one of the nyctophila
    Just like the cigarette you hold between your lips
    I'll be the definition of your last kiss.
    I know you're known by many
    But you'll be the last person in my mind
    That will ever be missed.

    Wait my darling our time is yet to come to meet
    I still have to summon my three other spirits

    So you're again walking on that line
    The one which can drown you into miseries
    The one which can protect making you mine

    I owe two pennies
    To your existence
    The door is painted blue
    Which represents my vengeance.

    Here you are,
    Looking for redemption
    I water my plants with destruction
    Did I forget to mention?

    Let's bring our
    To see the Irony
    To see the hues
    Our lives have built.

    Any piece I'm missing?
    Or are they still in my past lover's hearts
    Which will die when they will?

    @writersnetwork @fireblast_ @odysseus @thenicestbitch #ceesreposts #julietscorner

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  • lighght 5w

    And as now we've cast the spells of abandonment on ourselves, I think we should start craving ourselves. The silver lining I always hated on that back dress, the way I burned it into ashes and the way I still long for the destruction so that I can feel alive again.

    There's no cool in being mentally ill.
    My nose weren't helping me to breathe
    Past through the mental breakdowns
    So I tried the gills.

    I had to drown myself deep in water so that I can test my gills. I kept in drowning till I realize I was still mentally ill.

    Cigarettes helping me a lot lately. I think it's a smoke I'm breathing or the delusion that I'm yet to live. It's somewhere the compulsion of the cigarette in my hands that I can still be alive or the illusion that I'm not dead yet.

    Craving for nothing has eaten me from within. My British poetries just became a charade indeed.

    I need the cravings to satisfy, to loathe myself in fears of glee & cry. I have a thing for lost souls on this earth. The ones who are unloved. The ones who are untouched. So I end up giving a part of me so that they can sip Le fula's green tea. So that they don't have to fade themselves in cigarettes.

    Indeed I am a long gone damned soul. The words that were spoken to me once rely on my existence no more

    @fireblast_ @_day_dreamer23 #ceesreposts #julietscorner

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    And now as we've lived past through that,

    What's the point of living after all.

  • lighght 5w

    //Nights Are On Nightmares Low//

    I've heard the silver grey lining of peace melting
    As it comes knocking on my door.
    I sip lullabies tonight
    I sip till my breath makes me sound in hibernation.

    I glance at my sorrows
    I still have hope for tomorrow's
    And all the death sentence I had
    Melted as it grew thorns on me.

    Heard the thing that you had to say
    Giving forgiveness to you is not in my today's tray
    One more into the day
    One more into the rivery.
    I waterd my fears
    I sharpened my thorns

    Until the Apple grew beneath the maple tree
    Until the maple lost all of its rubies
    To save the Apple indeed.

    I crushed the reality
    Ended by clenching my hands
    All the fate that I've ever seen
    Had my breath all take away

    Yet I still mourn
    For which, is long gone
    I still murmur into my ears
    It's all gonna be okay one day, dear

    Till then,
    Water your fears
    Sharpen your thorns

    @writersnetwork @sakshirajput @fireblast_ @alto_spade #ceesreposts #julietscorner #tanzread

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  • lighght 5w


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    © m I s E r A b L e
    @writersnetwork @fireblast_ @roanwoody @alto_spade @mirakee #pod #ceesreposts #julietscorner

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  • lighght 5w

    Embers of the November

    This November embers
    The light I have within
    Take a glance as they wither
    The fake shades carried by others

    Your single glance
    Makes me tense
    I question your breathing next to me
    You answer me with no pretence

    Yet I murmur insecurities into me
    Yet I unravel how I can't experience glee
    Residing in the paradise wilting
    The sorrows of mine, the lies so filthy
    I search everywhere, I search for monarch
    Fate makes life nothing but an endless charade