Book lover, crazy...and yup i am still left aback to discover myself. Currently writing a fanfiction on wattpad. link:- https://my.w.tt/2a3L9U8wBZ

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  • whitequeen 11h

    I still remember your poetries by heart, like a poigant soul in this flouroquinolon, I love each word like the hymns of a holy book, I recite, day in- day out worshipping the same words, each time sounding more astounding then before like the universe and it's whole truth lies hidden in the meaning of letters joined together that know no meaning at all, your words are like fragrance, the one that can't be stopped, spreading in each direction, like a creeper plant that has no bounds, like a freshly done snake bite onto the skin of a human being, turning purple each time, moving around dying in pain but alas the pleasure of knowledge, each breath breaking apart the system of a galaxy inside your eyes, I read your poetries but not out loud, they're secretive hymns that need no decipher but I know each words by heart cause I'm in love with your poems, the art of an artist that makes me wanna write.

  • whitequeen 5d

    What is poetry? , words entangled to this intricate thread of a rhythmic pattern of waves, of a certain enclosed hidden feeling, almost like a tressure, a moment of nostalgia, tickling those array of avid emotions that were commanded by your brain to your heart to be forgotten forever and ever but a part of it still remains, holding strong, some excruciating pain, some enclosing the glistening of your smile. What is poetry?, words forbidden expressed multilingual into the chastity breaking the sanctity of a heart of a lover forgotten long back by it's other half. What is poetry? Expression of love in the form of a sogged piece of paper holding your tear stains to a written piece of validation to your parents of how they're loved and not forgotten by you as you go onto the train of growing up. What is poetry?, expression, validation or just fancy words role playing on this Earth, before a mishap? Poetry to me is the essence of a heart that once felt all the feelings on this Earth for all the people it connected with, it's all the effervescent colours that it experienced, it is a person entrapped on a page, ready to be read and it's all yours.

  • whitequeen 1w

    Scarlet red drops of bead, crimson is a colour unique, fire in the forest, blizzards amidst, in the middle of nowhere were Valhalla sits, a human drenched in blood, flesh torn out to the bones, sprawling red on the yellow road, running through the dessert, chains on foot, eyes straining out the hollows, laughing like a maniac at the fate of tomorrow, how it changes from one to the other's sorrow on the yellow gold were a scorpion stands, stinging it's own head, it sprawls in pain, in vain thinking of it's fate beforehand. Poison is a poison that kills none, a human in poison kills a thousand, so it runs and runs the desert bay, ravens chasing to make it prey, bloody limbs it falls on his knee and then the screams echoes the serenity, such pain, such fury, of divine rage of a human's foolery.

  • whitequeen 2w

    Would you believe if I said rainbows were mirages of a past world of mazes of forest and starlit nights, of dreams, of some stranger, books different then yours and a world upside down void of riddance and filled with fairy dust

  • whitequeen 3w

    It's hard you know, life, somedays I want to write ballads, long paras but people judge, calling me out for writing too much but it's so bad in here, it's suffocating like I'm drowning yet no water, like the air just stopped it's flow, there's a whole world breaking down in my mind and I just want to let go, when the traffic lights changes from red to green sometimes I feel like walking over it, it would feel warm the red liquid all around me but then it's that face again of a woman that raised me and I just loose my thoughts scrapping it all off, I want it to snow, yes I want it to snow in hear in the summer heat I want it to snow, misty breeze, blizzards of kinds, there's a hundred thoughts in my mind but there's one of living a happy life, one that's free, the one with colours of rainbows and crimsons but for now just let me breathe.

  • whitequeen 3w

    The dawning sun is divine, beckoning the fading moon to stay
    lost and scattered it stayed, unseen
    enchanted,lost, yet grateful, it made it's own way. As said, a bit broken with scars running down, moments stopped for a while, it casted a million spells to hide it's marks,the battle one's of solar stars, to shine in the shadow of the sun it played the game, it rose and fell and rose again and it was the moon as said and not called the sun instead.

  • whitequeen 4w

    Evenings and ends

    The sun sliding into the evening parade
    A golden grace
    Dusk of painted streets of black
    The abyss of greys
    Time seeping to timelessness
    The clock ticks a bit slow
    Fleeting yet stagnant
    The cycle repeats again
    Tangled in the moments, evergreen
    Lost in the captivating materialism
    In this wide world of ecstasy
    Biographies of hardships
    Speaking of mysterious norms
    Scrapped up of a thousand words
    Life is an open book, pages unread
    Lost in the panoramic horizon of blues and whites
    It's always the end that makes the most sense so try not to makes the sinners, the saints.

  • whitequeen 4w

    It is the mind that wanders oceans and mountains
    The heart just loves and stays
    It aches in pain of leaving a place
    The mind laughs a sarcastic note of distress

  • whitequeen 5w

    Rainbows are nothing, but a mix of black and white and a tinge of happiness bathed in the dusk of light, of neon colours of the blue's of crusty ocean beds and greens of enchanted forest maze.

  • whitequeen 5w

    And in this whole of a life you lost life....