“When death captures me,” the boy vowed, “he will feel my fist on his face.”

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  • veloc1ty_ 2d

    My submission for an instagram prompt by @/keephersecret.

    #writersnetwork #mirakee

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    If my heart was a house this is what you'll see...
    The door always open and unlocked,
    For anyone to barge in violently or invade silently
    The doorknob rusty, broken and fallen down
    Beside the withered doormat with a faded welcome sign,
    You'll get no greetings or warm receptions from this side
    You'll be free to visit and leave on your own will
    As long as you don't plan on staying the night

    The first thing you'll notice upon entering the house
    Is how the wallpaper is scraped, and all the furniture is gone
    You'll tremble upon the burnt carpet,
    And make faces upon how the house smells of death.
    And when you'll gaze upon the cracked columns,
    You'll wonder how the place hasn't collapsed into a rubble till now

    And after climbing up the noisy stairs,
    To visit a more deceased air
    You'll be revisited by the memories
    Of a place which once stood aflare
    You'll be trapped inside a raging wildfire
    Like the one which set fire to my soul
    You'll be surrounded by the flames of angst
    and they'll be shredding through your soul

    But before you up and leave the house,
    All burnt from your head to your feet
    I insist you upon paying your visits
    To the room where once she lived
    The santuary down the hall, and over to the right
    Which is now but a closed box of 4 walls,
    with nothing breathing inside but lies
    And you must take a piece of her soul
    And slide it down your pockets before you go
    So when you'll think of leaving a house like this
    You'll be redirected again to this haunting show

  • veloc1ty_ 5d

    You're like a song that people fall in love with
    on the very first listen.

  • veloc1ty_ 1w

    The last time I heard this song, I ended up crying really bad, which is strange for a song that is nowhere near sad and which doesn't have a depressing tone. It's actually a beautiful melody, coupled with pretty guitar strings and the soft voice of Arko complementing it well but still I cried.

    Coz The first time I heard this song, it wasn't Arko singing it nor was it the finely produced studio version that can be easily found on any of the online music streaming platforms. It was a simple voice recording, without any beat or music, just a young lady singing her way through Urdu words she had no idea about. And somehow I prefer her version over his.

    And this girl has no clue how many times I've sat in a corner and weeped my innocent heart out listening to it. And she isn't here anymore to see me failing to gather myself up through every listen, but maybe if the sky has a peephole and my ceiling isn't there anymore, she can catch a glimpse of me.

    Normally it takes a little time before I start my weeping session. During the first few seconds, I have this constant smile or rather a memory of the smile I used to wear listening to it in the early days but as the song progresses, my smile starts to crumble and my face collapses into my knees. My cotton shorts are right there to help in absorbing the pool of tears I end up breaking loose.

    "Mere dil ke lifafe mein
    Tera khat hai janiya
    Nacheez ne kaise paa li
    Jannat yeh janiya ve"

    This line is where I give in, this particular line, is where I'm at my lowest and it's where I take off my earphones to bury my head deeper into my lap. And while a silent sugary voice crawls out of the earphones, it doesn't make it past my ear which is largely populated by my own loud sobs at this point. And as the line suggests that I was fortunate enough to have witnessed this beautiful heaven before my eyes, it fails to mention how I didn't have the luck to keep it with me forever.


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  • veloc1ty_ 1w

    to be in a constant awe of a singular being for a hefty period of time is what this love-deprived world calls as the act of being in love. to cherish every single second spent in their presence, to reminisce every little memory created with them, living a life that only showcases the parts where they are present, is a wondrous thing.

    to be in a constant motion with respect to the earth and sun, yet not hating the oncoming changes is a feeling of satisfaction felt only by a few luckier ones. and to be with the person who is responsible for those changes in you and for the better, is truly a feeling felt by the luckier ones.

    to be in a company of a being who helps you morph into the kind of person you always were but never got to be. you rediscover your lost quirks and senses through the eyes of your person and feel comfortable to finally settle into a skin you never believed you'll get to be in.

    and i refuse to believe that there isn't anyone as such tailor-made for you. a person with interests that excite you, characteristics that mirror you, nuances that stop you in your tracks and eyes that carry love only to be poured inside yours. i simply refuse to believe that they don't exist. you, my friend, just haven't stumbled upon them yet.

  • veloc1ty_ 1w

    What is poetry if not a controlled outburst of suppressed emotions?

    What are words if not a swarm of roars before
    a trudging silence?

    ���� �������������� we've lived our entire lives, hiding behind closed doors, which are knocked on often but seldom do they get heard. and our voices are likely to be shut down before our words could reach out for help through the medium of air. so we resort to poetry, where we get to print them out safely while staying submerged ���� ��������������

    some words are thrown around aimlessly while some fit right into the theme. some words are positioned with utmost certainty while some are later replaced by their pretty counterparts. and some poor novices of redundancy are reduced to spaces before our thoughts could take the final form.

    And once done, we stand irritably on empty streets with these fierce placards held upright in our palms and dejection taped all around our mouths. our eyes search for another set of eyes to lend us their ears to what our mouths couldn't utter but our fates are sealed tighter than our lips, so what comes our way is nothing but a nonpolite rejection.


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  • veloc1ty_ 2w

    the absence clocked up in the empty cradle echoes deeply. the soft lining of the bedsheet awaits for your weight to push against it. i dust it off twice a week, i offer my best efforts to keep it new, to match them with the unboxed toys we've bought for you. they are missing you more than these empty arms of mine, or maybe not. i didn't get the chance to warm you in my embrace, feed you in my arms, kiss your little nose and your smile. ive wailed a river thinking i'll never get to hush you when you cry your own naive heart out.

    the curtains covering your window are grey,
    and mine are tainted with black. yours are dancing on the thin line between light and dark but mine have stopped moving and have broken down. they've hid themselves in the shadows, away from all the shine. just how i hover in the places where there is no light.

    love, i miss you badly when i place my hands over my empty belly, it hurts a little. a little or a lot, i can't differentiate it at all. my reality is a big blur with grey patches stitched at every corner. and it's tearing me apart every second im able to breathe holding this empty graveyard in my palms.

    //when grief took the place of my young one inside my womb, i was deprived of a chance at having a kin and my kin was deprived of a change at having a life.//


    I wrote this for a prompt for an Insta poetry competition (._.) The lines is the //..// are also mine.
    My prompt was Miscarriage

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    when grief took the place of my young one inside my womb, i was deprived of a chance at having a kin and my kin was deprived of a change at having a life.

  • veloc1ty_ 2w

    anxiety's a silent drop of water penetrating the stillness of my calm mind, severing the surface with wildness and diving into it, to add up to the volume of chaos that rests dormant inside it. it charges at me like a fanatic, sending across a range of tiny ripples that die even before reaching the shore but it's enough to rattle my mental state.

    and pain is like a hot spice that has lost all of its hotness, so it sits steady on the edges of my tongue waiting patiently for the crisis to arrive but it ends up not stinging me as much as it was meant to. It simply dissolves in with my inability to stir an emotion in the hot pot of the feelings i overcooked for myself.

    numbness is its byproduct, a strange feeling or rather the absence of it, and it has stuck to my skin for way too long now. it all began with the collapse of a stack of intangible thoughts, starting from the least of dangerous ones to the ones that are unfavourably violent. but eventually it shaped my thought train, sushing the frightened child in me that has recently been orphaned. and as any other orphanage, it took care of me when no one bothered to.

    now hope to me, is like a wet matchstick that doesn't answer properly to the whistling of spark. the fire within me has died long ago, and the fireplace that held the ceremony is now occupied by the uninvited cold. my bones shiver from inside and my lungs fail to catch a brea(k/th). time did what it had to, and im not absurd enough to hold it accountable for its actions. coz time was merely the cold water that (soak/sav)ed me from a third degree burn without realizing it would leave me freezing with a bitter cold mark in the process.

    Bg: Album cover of Circles by Mac Miller.
    Used in an attempt to pay tribute to him coz listening to it urged me to write this. ❤

    @writersnetwork ty for the kind repost (._.)

    Yay, I'm still worthy ��❤

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  • veloc1ty_ 3w

    I hope this gives strength to those who can't stand up for themselves. ❤

    To anonymous,

    First things first, I wasn't spreading any rumours, I just happened to talk to a few of your victims, which btw are so many of them. like literally every other girl has been approached by you in this fake trap of love. and i came to know about this very late xd till then there were already a hundred such stories about you.
    So yea lol im not ruining your name. woh toh tumne khud kiya hai aisi harkate karke. believe me, im actively trying not to get involved in this xd lucky you :P

    but i think its high time you wake the fuck up. you should be working on your own behavior rather than blaming people for calling you out. coz for you it may not seem that serious of an offense, it might be fun or relief from depression or whatever the fuck you have, but for the girls it's life ruining, you are fucking RUINING their lives. do you even get it??????? using LOVE for such a vile purpose. and i feel so bad for every girl you start targeting. i feel bad coz i cant tell them how an asshole of a person you are. i feel so helpless.

    and you want a war lmao. bruh you're out there abusing girls who aren't even 18. NOT EVEN 18. and YOU want a war WITH ME? LMAO
    are you stupid enough to believe that none of the girls took ss? xD like are you that fucking dumb? xd

    lucky for you, im just trying to lay low. i already have a lot of my own problems to deal with. so im not gonna get more into this. this is my first and last post about you and your issue. it isn't my war anyways, unless you wanna bring it to me :3

    just be happy with the fact that the girls haven't fucked you up yet xd you have no idea how many people DESPISE YOU. you should be worried more about them, rather than me. *sighs*

    hope you get your act together.
    and be a better guy.
    have a nice 2021.


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    Life is a balance,
    You lose your grip, you can slip into an abyss
    No doubt you see these (people) trippin'
    Ego in charge of every move, he's a star
    And we can't look away
    Due to the days that he caught our hearts

    He's falling apart, but we deny it
    Justifying that half-ass shit he dropped, we always buy it
    When he tell us he a genius but it's clearer lately
    It's been hard for him to look into the mirror lately
    There was a time when this (guy) was my hero, maybe
    That's the reason why his fall from grace is hard to take
    'Cause I believed him when he said his shit was purer and he
    The type of (guy) that swear he real but all around him's fake
    The women, the dickriders, you know, the yes men
    Nobody with the balls to say somethin' to contest him
    So he grows out of control
    Into the person that he truly was all along, it's startin' to show
    Damn, wonder what happened
    Maybe it's my fault for idolizing (people)
    Based off the words they be rappin'
    But come to find out, these (people) don't even write they shit
    Hear some new style bubblin' up, then they bite the shit
    Damn, that's what I get for lyin' to myself
    Well, fuck it, what's more important is he's cryin' out for help
    While the world's eggin' him on, I'm beggin' him to stop
    And playin' his old shit, knowin' he won't top it, false prophets

    -False prophets by J. Cole

  • veloc1ty_ 4w

    Part 5: (Christmas special) #unnamedrnxd

    "Is it an animal? Is it a new car?" I wondered.
    "Nah, knowing dad, that's never gonna happen. So if it's an animal, will it bite me? Will it tear me apart? Possibly! Will it hurt a lot?" several such questions circled around my mind while I was tracing the path towards outside. ������������������ could have been a dog or a wolf but I was praying it wasn't the latter.

    "Hurry up Memp, fir won't eat you." My dad shouted, as if he read the panic and fear from my face.

    And in my mind, I was relieved, coz
    1. It wasn't an animal
    2. And that significantly reduced the possibility of me being getting mauled.
    3. I didn't have to go the shop now. He had just made my job easier.

    Or so I thought, coz I was right only until I reached outside.

    the biggest tree he could find, making it harder not just to bring it inside in that freezing cold but also the thing that was about to follow shortly; decorating that massive piece of wood and leaves.

    Apparently my dad was fond of big things, and no that wasn't a silent nod at my mom, even though her weight was significantly on the healthier side of things. And talking about weight, I lost a few pounds myself, trying to bring that mammoth tree inside all by myself.

    I dragged it in somehow, courtesy to all the power the 8AM bacon and eggs had provided me with. After keeping it in a suitable corner, I took a sigh of relief and stretched out my back. I saw Sara standing at the kitchen counter in awe, and before she could part her lips, I said quickly, " I call dibs on the top half".

    The top part of the tree being smaller in circumference fetched in lesser amount of work needed to be done.
    But my wife, pretending to be deaf to the sound of my bark, said quietly, " I'm taking the top half, hon."

    I lost the bid, being smaller in authority and that fetched in more amount of work needed to be done.

    After cleaning the house for about 2 hours, we finally started setting up the Chistmas tree by 5PM.

    Everything was ready; the tree, a box of tinsel and candy canes, ornaments, lights, beads and a bright star that would sit at the top. The deal was of 50/50 labour; the bottom half of the tree was under my assignment while she had the task of decoration the top, along with the privilege of placing the star on the top.

    I started draping the naked tree with a golden tinsel and she overlapped it with a silver one. Then after finishing the box of tinsel, we went in with the carton of candy canes. The red and white canes, of the size of a small hotdog you get by the street, were thrown in between the mid and the end section of the tree. Then, we clipped ornaments balls on the ends of each branch. They looked like shiny spherical earrings, something that those models from fashion shows would flaunt on the ramp. We hung a garland of charteuse  beads on top of the leaves and stuck three socks in the front. One for me, one for Sara and one for my father.

    Sara had to stay on the ladder for the entirety of the task and that made me feel less sad about the choice that was snatched away by my wife with cruelty. Suddenly, the bottom section didn't seem that bad.

    " How's everything up there?" I jokingly said to her, sitting near the end of the tree with my legs folded comfortably.

    " You look smaller than usual", she replied in a soft voice, struggling to stay steady on the steps.

    " How's your back?" I poked at her again.

    "NEVER BEEN BETTER" she sighed and rolled over her eyes.

    "I'd like an update on that as soon as you get down" I requested.

    She looked at me with pure hatred, held the stare for a second and mumbled, "Sure thing, babe."

    After troubling her for a good couple of minutes, I got up and unwrapped the box of lights. I tied them all around the tree by myself, and that concluded with 95% of the work. The remaining part was the star placing ceremony, the grand satisfaction that I was robbed off with great malice.

    Sara did the honours and extended her small hands towards the top of the fir and carefully placed the star on its head within a few seconds.

    " Check for the angle, please?" She requested, still hanging at the top of the ladder, "Is it tilted or correct?" Her soft voice echoed like elixir in my ears. She looked at me with innocence and waited patiently to hear me spell out those three magical words.

    "!" I affirmed with a smile.

    She smiled back and got down from the stairs and went "ughhhh" touching her back.

    " Thanks for the quick ������������". I grinned at her.

    Everything was now done. It was finally time to give �������� to the tree as it was looking beautiful but incomplete. The lights weren't ��������! So I went towards the light switch and turned it on. And with a flick of a switch, the room just lit BRIGHT. It radiated warmth like sunshine and to be there, accompanied by people who exhibited affection and love, it felt as if we were visited by the first morning of Summer.

    Dad rose from the couch and looked at us with content. He smiled and approved of the tree.
    "MERRY CHRISTMAS, KIDS!" He cheered with great laughter, as he was Santa himself.

    Me and Sara looked at each other as ���������� �������������� and joined in together in his celebration, holding hands tight, smiling at the sight of the tree we'd just �������������� out of love.

    End of chapter 2
    Merry Christmas in advance :") ��❤️

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  • veloc1ty_ 4w

    The sanguine light that shined bright from her heart
    made sure I never faced darkness again.