The Storywriter Writes her story daily But little did she know Of the problems she faces daily. The story had in mind, Its details were all but forgotten. She forgot the wording Being compelled to use the “All-knowing AI” for help. Her Parents Who earlier motivated her to start the story Now compel her to stop For she is focusing on it a bit too much. They want her to stop the creativity in her head But it ishers She decides when to think and when not, So why force? These tho

The sun carries a refrain i cannot hold. The warm chatter of her voice- A beautiful elegy that hurls me to the marble floor. Her eyes paint the colours i had only dreamed to hope Her song a hope, For the blue of my toes. sophie

Maybe it was her Maybe it was me But many times she just didn't get the heat Or even agree to flee Could be why I was always so sad May be why I am always mad I just couldn't get the fad She is the one who always goddamn cared The multiple times I prayed Or even those damn pills that made me sway And all those sorrys she hastily made I hoped and begged she would just go away Putting a million thoughts in my head And somehow making me lose my breath Managing to make my insides

I yearn, for the tears that never come, for this twisted sense of ache to be gone. I yearn for the unmarred flesh to tear through time and embrace me, hoping it would bring the naive girl back with it. The truth is, she was gone the very moment red stroked her white canvas. And back shall she never come. Oh through all of reality, how thy heart aches for purity. I am utterly consumed by this void, the words of my mother searing right through my flesh to stroke the void how wo

The second I turned around, Deep, shallow breaths are my survival. The panic attacks late at night haunt me. Everything seems so heavy, A weight that leaves a mark, Dark red or crimson. Don’t know who to believe anymore. Happy one second, suicidal the next. None of this is real, is it? Everything was perfect, At least in my perception. Yet it got broken because I was never worthy. Hated seems understandable. A helpless villain in your eyes, Begging the devil to save me. But i

With each rise of the sun, he sits down on his mat, kneeling to the almighty. Pray for his good sake. Only his. Allah, Waheguru, Jesus, Bhagwan and what not. God. He calls him the father of the universe. But strangely, with the fall of every day, his women bleed, and he tries desperately to hide his bloody hands. Not from his Almighty, but from the society.

December 2019, winter break. It was my first (and unfortunately last) trip to Surat via aeroplane. That time, both my cousin and I were 9, and my eldest cousin brother was about 14. My sister didn't have a dog at that time. My aunt lived in a housing society on the 7th floor. The rooms in the house were luxurious (but the washrooms were average). My sister’s room had a good bunk bed and a study table to the left of it. I had a great time during my visit. We played games toget

Condition is something that is quite not a match with love. Because love is empathy, condition is rationality. Love is freedom, condition is constraint. How can this in any universe be one? Unfortunately, it is not. People yet find a way to nullify this cruelty on the namesake of societal norms, just like the countless other deeds. The saying goes, cold water feels warm when your hands are freezing. So I keep digging and digging on the shore, the ocean washing up my hard work

Puddles of paint on the tips of every yellow hope that dawns from her chest. the scent lingers, and the gold mixes with blue seeping into her nails; there lies no rest for where she searches for life. and yet with no respite, her nails trace her covered canvas- a performance she paints for those with spite. there lingers a strange purple, unnoticed by most- where there is now no hope. a gold, which she covers with a cloth so bright that it takes away her light. and yet she cl

I was reminded of you today. A nostalgia that never left me. Realised I lost all photos of us. Somehow made me miss. Yet you love her, don’t u?  You guys seem good,  From what others tell me.  But that call, even though a dare,  Scared me to death. I cannot seem to like him, Like I loved you. But was it ever really anything Between us?  It seems all too real, yet fake.  Just a month,  Yet I was left yearning.  You took everything,  Yet nothing at all. I just need my sweet boy