• void 6w

    inspired by @aaditya (please don't read this sir it's horrid- I just wanted to give you credit where it was due :)
    #colour #writersnetwork #pod #mirakee
    @writersnetwork @mirakee
    #concretepoetry

    oh and side note - normalcy is overrated. stay weird if you are :D

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    i
    b
    l
    e
    e
    d
    out from my wounds
    that the world labels
    as harmless 'scars'
    in colours of
    oranges and yellows
    for my sanguine smiles
    are the reason behind my pain staying concealed
    the reason behind my pain staying unhealed

    and ironically, the reason behind my pain

    For these smiles were an open invitation
    To my now-weeping dark-hued angels
    and my now-grinning light-coloured demons
    to pounce and prey upon
    the littlest of euphoria
    s
    i
    N
    k
    I
    N
    G
    and
    D
    R
    O
    W
    N
    I
    N
    G
    down in the rigidity of my mulched blood

    i e m b o d y
    green
    in the form of shameful jealousy
    c
    o
    u
    r
    s
    i
    n
    g
    through my exhausted veins
    jealousy that normalcy
    //the colour of red, willing to coexist with many hues but unsuited for a few//
    shuns me and despises me to the point
    that it's vast e x p a n s I v e self
    will bother not to
    pay me a visit
    ,rendering me poisoned,
    from the poison of naive hope and hopeless wishes, touching my lips,
    t
    r
    a
    v
    e
    l
    l
    i
    n
    g down my spine
    wishes that normalcy could pick me, apart from the crowd for once
    // though really it isn't that hard//

    and have some pity, pity I would usually hate

    //pity being the colour of pink, loved selectively, and only when dosed light//

    leading to an acquaintance I would gladly associate myself with.

    I stare
    e m p t i l y
    into the callous horizon
    brushed with blue(s)
    as my thoughts
    trickle

    mingle

    and enjoy

    to destroy
    and like the hue blue
    this is normalcy
    and reality
    and in the grander scheme of things
    c a l m

    the storm raging
    slowly and steadily
    is a splash of
    grey
    the many thoughts raging inside my head
    acquaint with each other
    to the point of sadness
    that they wish to strip themselves of
    all the hues they had,
    hues that were an open invitation
    to misery
    beckoning at the d o o r
    and now begin to paint frowns in that
    same darned colour
    on the spot where
    yellow smiles and purple laughs
    once took it's place
    //my sadness is filled with sadness- why am I not surprised//

    you could attempt to intensify your vision
    and look beyond my soul
    and proclaim, with
    presumed poetic flare
    'youre a rainbow'
    'after all rainbows have
    a m u l t i t u d e of hues
    and form after
    those gloomy storms'
    and with another manufactured smile
    I whisper
    'no, dear poet
    rainbows are products
    derived from nature's womb
    but I am a disowned daughter, to say the least
    scientists and biologists
    if were ever to run tests and scans
    //in a failed attempt to help humanity, im guessing//
    would find negligible results due to all the high
    I n t e r f e r e n c e and erratic, confused
    f r e q u e n c y
    do you not know
    that philosophers
    s h r i e k
    due to the advent of this freak?
    //and once again I forgot- misfits are too significantly insignificant to be bothered for//

    oh dear, foolish poet
    must I remind you,
    that rainbows
    are not invisible chaos
    rainbows are not the feelings
    of annihilation that race down my
    s p i n e
    and remind me of the impending abyss
    that calls me with velvet laced in the syllables of it's tone
    rainbows are not
    muffled screams quashed down and suppressed by silent unspoken fears
    rainbows are not
    crumbling, withering hope stabbed and bleeding in the corner, cursing itself for trusting
    rainbows are not
    unhinged despair standing at the crossroads of
    s
    t
    a
    n
    d
    i
    n
    g
    land (hell)
    or
    f
    a
    l
    l
    i
    n
    g
    b e c k o n i n g
    pits (hell)
    rainbows are not
    conversations the devil's assistant has with resting spirits
    to uplift it's own
    //mundane talk murmured by humans devoid of complete knowledge cannot suffice, as empty words cannot fill empty souls//

    they all are
    unwritten letters to the midnight sky
    hues waiting to fill spaces of sin
    the colour h u m a n s are blind to
    the raging dysmorphia
    the colour of
    B L A C K
    - mihika
    Ā©nubivagant_