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  • moonstruck 3d

    I-am-a-homo-sapien :

    They want me not to shed tears and have fears 'cause they do believe shedding tears and having fears are an epitome of a coward. Tears are needed to lessen the burden of our heart and we must have fears, so we can overcome them. To learn from our fears is far better than not to have them.

    They want me not to speak frankly, to be in my 'limits', it's what they say. It differs that 'limits' here means not to represent my part, to shut my mouth even on wrong doings. "To see evil be done is a more sinful act than to do evil." To not speak for right is what cowards do.

    They want me to be as beautiful as a flower and as tender as its petals, no matter what the circumstances are. They forget about the thorns. Why don't they understand that the outer ugliness isn't ugly, it's the appearance of the soul which matters. And sometimes being tough is what we need, "NO" is what is required instead of tenderness and a deadly "YES".

    They want me to have a calloused heart. For they do believe, it's how we succeed. Leaving everyone, breaking every bond, it's not the way how humans survive.

    But they want me to be any one of these, either a warrior or a coward , either a flower or a thorn.

    Why are they placing me in one more division? This world is already full of social divisions, not one more.

    Why don't they leave me just a Homo sapien?
    A Home sapien who knows how to shed tears and shred fears. A Homo sapien who embraces tenderness and callousness at the same time. Isn't it enough that I'm a Homo sapien or my complexion too matters?

    I'm a warrior who has learnt from
    Her fears by overcoming them,
    Fears that a coward has.
    I'm a rose adorning those thorns.
    And my complexion is grey.


    This is an old one.

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  • moonstruck 1w

    "Love, I walked in my shoes,
    In others' shoes and even barefoot
    For I wanted to taste life a little better."

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    A little unfair, a little ruthless
    Making us biased and reckless
    Is what, they say, life is
    Not always some fairy tale bliss
    We speak of the unknown
    As if it is our humble home

    Telling a bunch of lies
    Limning imaginations on the skies
    Running away from life
    As if it is a assassin with a bloody knife
    Living with the idea of being so high
    Just to fall from up there to acidify

    Emotions are fascinating to see
    But love, don't box it up for me
    Have drained my system with them
    As if they are Mary Jane
    Already lost the last bit of sanity
    No more search for a damn reality

    Barefoot, walking ahead of time
    The broken alarm clocks chime
    Life treated you like rainbows till now
    Now, in future, you can't help but say wow
    When it shows you it's true colours
    It fucks up like venomous flowers

    Laying low to become invisible in the crowd
    Attention isn't your forte, you scream out aloud
    Chameleons envying your camouflaging skills
    Getting high on sleeping pills
    And all of a sudden, game changes
    You're out there inside the cages

    A lot of things are too beautiful to see
    But that's it, a beautiful mirage.


  • moonstruck 1w

    Broken furniture and broken promises
    Lie abandoned in the basement
    The tear stained wallpapers
    Tell stories of the heartbreaks
    Love that lingered around every corner
    Eloped to somewhere you can't find
    Not the kind of love people talk about
    Just the simple kind of love

    Photographs are imprinted on minds
    Lyrics of old songs on hearts
    You speak of all the emotions
    Even which you've not felt yet
    Like the back of your hand
    Wandering around the strange places
    Leaving letters behind to make yourself
    A somebody in someone's story

    The evening sky reminisces you
    Of your lilacs and crimsons
    You're not a lover of sunsets or sunrises
    They make you fill inferior
    Your eyes tell a hundred stories
    They don't flow as a river
    Just as molten wax, quite dense
    And burn like funeral pyre

    Living in some parallel universe
    Where ashes feel like stardust
    You brain adumbrates the mercury
    From broken thermometers as diamonds
    Garnering happiness from blues and greys
    And relishing pain with all your heart
    You smell of heavenly lavenders
    The ashtray by your side gives away your bluff

    You fall in love everyday, quite literally
    Sometimes with the lyrics of a new song
    Sometimes with the new novel in library
    Sometimes with brokenness
    The same lines of the novel
    You've read hundred times
    Make you fall for it again and again
    And it feels a little different everytime

    You lust after love to make you whole.


  • moonstruck 1w


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    T A C E N D A

    Is it possible to colour someone's canvas with neon, when your palette possesses only achromatic shades? I don't know how but people do that. Perhaps after every rain, they steal neons from rainbow or beg for that, I'm not sure. But what do they do when the rainbows are colourless?

    Certainty no longer knocks my door. I can't blame it. I've never allowed it to enter. It stood there for years, faced many summers and winters, springs and falls, and kept knocking the door. But I'm uncertain about everything, about who I'm, even about whether I should've opened doors for it. This fall, it finally left. That was a good decision. Not for me, for it. I craved for it sometimes, even now I crave for it but I've not told this to anyone, not even to certainty. Why? I'm not good at expressing. Precisely, I'm not good at articulating.

    I laugh even when there's nothing to laugh about. I often return smile to strangers. That perfect curve, as everyone believes, is one of the easiest way to colour someone's canvas with neon. I try to do that. Not everyone knows, some of the strangers whom we come across are people who are trying to hide in this spherical world or perhaps they know that but they let that pass in silence. Not perfectly spherical, I know.

    Have you ever wondered why poets, mostly, love nights? Expecting me to answer that? Well, I'm too ambivalent. I usually say, "maybe, because of stars". That's right to an extent but not completely. I'm afraid to tell them that some are in love with the black voids. Black is beautiful, isn't it? Me? My answer is same, I don't know why I love nights. But this isn't what I tell them.

    Coming back to colours, the black of mine conflated with my white to make a shade you named grey, a dull colour. The lilac wasn't in my range for you fed a butterfly and expected her to paint your land with lilac. She might've painted it with her own colours even if it meant stealing hers and leaving her colorless, but honey, you were never in love with black and white and she was nothing but of black and white. And now you blame her for her grey.

    I haven't put it in words and you haven't caught it in silence.


  • moonstruck 2w

    We lay under the same stars.

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    Are those lies
    Worth cherishing?
    They work as an ointment
    When truths burn
    I see her whimper in pain
    Making sure it isn't audible
    How she bleeds through rants
    She's not a poetess; was never one
    Metaphors don't make sense to her
    Even though she is one
    She was fed with similes
    Since forever
    An empty forever, though
    She smells of lavenders
    Anyone can get lost
    While gazing in the
    Maze of her black eyes
    That are soulless like her
    Whenever I come across her
    I wave, she waves back at me
    Wandering around the neighborhood
    At midnight
    She makes herself home
    At those rusted swings
    Scrutinizes the park
    For those broken promises
    How adoringly she caresses them
    She loves rust, she loves pieces
    Anyways, perfection is way too overrated

    I watch her from afar
    I know, she does too
    I gaze at the stars
    She does too
    They sing the same lullaby
    It just feels different
    We never speak to each other
    But we do know each other

    For we lay under the same stars
    They know our stories
    We try to decipher theirs
    Most humans breathe through words
    Some by reading them
    Some by writing them
    And some by feeling them
    Whom we tend to call poets.


  • moonstruck 5w

    "Can't good come around sometimes through some strange back doors?"
    - Donna Tartt

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    B A C K D O O R

    People whom we love
    Tend to leave without goodbyes
    Leaving memories behind
    Delegating us to cherish them
    Either we do or we don't

    Grappling with farewells isn't easy
    Feels the same as
    An embrace with bleak winds
    All the warmth vanishes
    I wonder if goodbyes coerce
    Winter to arrive a little early?

    The house no longer emanates
    The same comforting warmth
    It seems cold and empty
    Definitely, not 'home'
    Often, people misinterpret
    Loneliness as solitude

    Drenched in pain, sadness and hurt
    Using intoxication as an escape
    You smell of cigarettes and alcohol
    Sitting close to the door
    Waiting for a knock
    Letting unconsciousness consume you

    Shutting the whole world outside
    With the walls you've built
    Seeking 'home' in the so-called 'escape'
    Staring at the same door
    Evading all the knocks at the back door
    'Cause you've always believed-

    Everyone, who is sane, knows
    What good can come through
    Some rusted back door?


  • moonstruck 6w

    W H I R L P O O L

    Shoulders weighing down
    With unknown feelings
    Breathing underwater
    Isn't as easy as you mentioned
    Drowning in the ocean
    Of unshed tears
    Grief, agony, guilt?
    Don't know what I feel
    Can't swim back to the shore
    Stuck in the middle of whirlpool
    Someone's begging to breathe
    Someone's coercing to drown
    My eyes are burning with ocean water
    Tears are streaming down my face
    Shouts, screams
    No one to hark to my plea
    No one to show me the way back home
    Eyelids drooping with exhaustion
    Brain is telling
    To stay awake
    Brain and body aren't in coordination
    I close my eyes
    Memories come rushing back
    It seems so easy
    To drown and then float
    For all the wrong that's done
    For all the mistakes
    For all the betrayals
    You told me
    To follow this spiral inward
    I did
    And now it's tightening
    It's hold on my throat
    I can't breathe
    But I'm still chanting in my mind
    Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.


  • moonstruck 10w

    Well, let's say, we always have choices even if some are more evil than the others.


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    Bleeding are the bruises on my wrists
    The knots are tight; ankles are numb
    You pull the strings; I succumb
    Hit hard by my inner demon's fists

    Erroneous are the terrors told by you
    But my mind is dissuading the logics
    The angels are asking to wait for magic
    The demons are yelling to come out of blue

    Adumbrating the stars with fireflies
    Waiting for the cease of moon's eclipse
    Having reveries about the apocalypse
    A chimera of removing the drapes from lies

    A mess of neurons in my brain
    A maze of threads on my flesh
    Within me, there's angels and demons' clash
    And with your benevolence, there's crimson rain

    The yearning for freedom
    From the strings that control me
    From the ambivalence I feel; the blues I see
    From the crescendo of screams and treason

    I'm stuck within a spiral maze of strings
    I keep crawling; no idea of direction
    End up moving inwardly; no control on motion
    Can't breathe 'cause of tightening of its rings

    Help me the unravel these strings' labyrinth
    Free my neurons and veins from myth.


  • moonstruck 11w

    Changes aren't bad
    Cause of the change matters
    When we change for someone else
    We make a mistake; a big one
    Change for yourself, not for others.

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    It's been a while
    Since you last came here
    Buried underneath the ground
    Is a stranger's genuine smile
    Camouflaged with layer after layer
    Of pretence; nothing else to be found

    It didn't use to be like this
    But everything then was fake
    Sympathy using crocodile tears
    The only truth was sun and horizon's kiss
    Emptied those bottled tears in a lake-
    Where you revealed you true fears

    Then it was they who lied
    Now, it's you who've changed
    Shutting yourself away from everyone
    Begging for tears which have dried
    Metamorphosing into a devil; angels caged
    Starving them; waiting for doom to come

    You know, it's you who failed
    Changing your ways; changing you
    For others; for people who don't care
    It's the wrong barque you sailed
    See yourself from drowning in the blue
    Life is a labyrinth which you deceive to be your lair.


  • moonstruck 11w

    And sometimes, it's in the voids where we find the complete story.

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    We're standing
    From where this started
    Heart brimming with-
    Regrets, lessons, memories
    Some happy, some eerie
    I've always known
    There was something more
    To your story
    Just like mine
    Just like everyone's
    I didn't say a word
    Bygone times; bygone rhymes
    I too used to live in the voids
    In between the lines
    That was my cloister
    I fell asleep there
    No one to wake me up
    Silence singing lullabies
    Loneliness cuddling
    Breeze kissing
    Reminiscing the relics
    But that's what they're
    I know
    Sorrow, grief, guilt, agony
    You feel them, but don't show
    Just like others
    You know you deserve happiness
    Everyone does
    You're just fleeing
    For you're scared of getting hurt
    But you want someone or something
    To mend you; listen to you
    Without judging you
    You write; you hide
    Writing white lies
    To convince yourself
    Hiding true feelings
    Behind the facade of words
    I found you
    When I fell for voids

    Someone will break your walls
    Till then, my friend
    Let the stars show you
    A part of someone's story.