Misfit.

I look around and think “I will fit.”

But will I be a perfect piece

to complete the puzzle?

 

Will I be the one piece

that will make a difference?

I breathe in confusion.

 

What if I don’t fit here?

What if I bring down

the puzzle altogether?

 

I snuggle myself in

the spaces found,

but I am not warmed.

 

I find my mind freezing ,

to the point where I think

I don’t belong in this world.

 

My mind squirms

to corners of warmth

to get more frostbitten.

 

I breathe cold exhaustion

and exasperation,

among tears that adorn my skin.

 

I blink among the tears

and look around, with

foggy eyes and an evident mind.

 

I see that I don’t belong

to a puzzle piece.

I don’t make a picture complete.

I am a beautiful complete picture.

-Shashvathi S H

(hoping to see with an evident mind, and embrace the complete picture I am.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Angels that set the world on fire.

I see faces that stare into mirrors everyday, as they die,
I lunge those souls that breathed their last,
of surprise and thoughtfulness on to my shoulders,
and carry them to my abode of sleep.

But this one, I did not.
This one, stared at the mirror as she felt the monsters lurk behind her.
She looked at her face and smiled as though,
the monsters were going to gift her.
The monsters stabbed her with pleasure.
But she smiled on at the mirror.
I picked her cold body off of her blood,
and cried out “Why?”
“These monsters saved me from angels,
that would set me on fire,
And watch me shed my last drop of blood.”
-Shashvathi S Hariharan
 

Chaos- poetry.

C H A O S

Lungs filled with smoke,
Eyes covered in fog,
Mouth stuffed with sand,
Mind gelled out into chaos.

Living among scrunched up
paper and meagre amounts of ink,
I live art and
breathe Magic.

My mind tangled
amongst twists in my hair,
and the scent of
far fetched memories.

My lips burnt
of biting in doubt and anger.
My soul yearns to feel
warmth that singes, yet comforts.

My eyes simmer in pain,
my heart shrinks in ache,
my hands burn from scars,
my feet buckle under agony.

Is life truly a balance?
Is doubt in reality, fear
sheathed among layers?
Is my heart truth or my mind sane?

Questions linger in my mind
Mending my brain
into stitched up layers of fabric
But should I fear or embrace them?

Life is truly a choice between
Embrace and embarrass,
For not all glitters are gold,
And not all are to be embraced.

I sigh as I breathe confusion
Exhale madness
And consume guilt
And expel passion.

This is a barf of some recent thoughts that gel in my mind. Thought I should share it. Don’t ponder too much over it, sometimes I’m truly crazy.

Yours truly

CrazyLittleRowling  ; )

The Seven Accomplices.

The seven accomplices

Meet the seven accomplices of life, sins you may or may not evade. Each paragraph signifies one deadly sin, that I have not named. Try finding them.

The seven deadly sins are: Greed, Sloth, Envy, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony and Pride.

It rages in you,

I reside in you,

Every part of you.

You discover yourself,

in someone else,

and then, I shall feast on you.

I am what defines man,

desire and fulfilment,

content and tastefulness,

but is it what you deserve?

Are your needs defined

to the proportions of the sea?

I am what you live out of.

Shapes of your external abode,

are what I bloat.

Is the stomach an unimaginable

escape to the mental stress you are put in?

I am what you consume and what consumes you.

Your limbs and mind

have ceased to work,

and you shall forget

what your task is.

I shall reign your reins,

for you are a mere beast asleep.

Oh, you know me too well,

for I am what makes you feel the pain,

for I am the substance that burns

in you, and what makes you yearn,

plead and act. I shall help you gulp

what you feel, and most of all deserve.

I am what follows my closest brother,

who just stands above me.

I am what makes you act

to what injustice shall occur,

or what you yearn,

or what you pleaded of.

I am what follows after happiness,

or the end of a yearning.

I am who shall demean every

one that once surrounded me,

that clapped hands to a falling individual.

I am one who shall blind you of gratefulness.

The deadly sins (in order of the paragraphs are)

  • Lust
  • Greed
  • Glutton
  • Sloth
  • Envy
  • Wrath
  • Pride

The poet.

 “Our hearts are caged, 

and are banging on cell doors​, 

to be let out free, 

to live fulfillment,

and freedom,

to live of love,

to live of rage,

Of colors,

Of fire,

Of magic.”

 To find out more about the poem scroll on to my story: “The Poet.” http://my.w.tt/UiNb/PEj3K5nlVF

Poetic rants.

Rants are a part of life. There’s nothing you can do about it. There’s actually something extremely intriguing about it. It’s how you do it that matters. Not why you’re doing it. Or even if there are opinions that conflict these.

So I found ways to doing this. And one way that really relieved me is either making poetry or reading. You can also find this on my Instagram.https://www.instagram.com/p/BXz7iuAFf69/

“Broken”

“Broken”- We’re all a little broken,

Broken in our own way,

But the last time I checked,

Broken crayons still color.
We’re all a little alone,

Aloned by people,

But you still have yourself,

To bring some cheer into your way.
We’re all a little hated,

Hated for our real,

But the last person I spoke to,

Told me I am loved.
We’re all a little jealous,

Jealous cause why not me?

But your time will come when you take chances.
We’re all a little joyful,

Joyful cause it’s life,

Live it and experience every emotion.

-Shashvathi S Hariharan

And then, she gave in;

Gave in her strength and stopped holding herself back.

She let those tears roll down her cheeks, those cheeks that had never been wet by tears.

As the water hit her face, she moaned. They collided and hit the floor

Invaluable and precious tears that could’ve shed for something better,

rather than this. – Shashvathi S Hariharan

“Strange”

Her soul was a strange one.

A mixture of the strangest, yet beautiful things.

Strange? What is strange? Strange  is falling in love with the unique things. Unique things that people don’t notice, notice the beauty in them.

She loved the gloom of the rain.

She loved the aftermath of rain- everything about it..

She loved books, the smell, the feel, the way she could escape reality.

She loved the eyes of people, the way each one could convey what it’s been through.

She was special, unique and strange yet beautiful.

She knew that beauty wasn’t on the outside,

It was on the inside, and the inside is what matters.

She was strange, yet beautiful on the inside.- Shashvathi S Hariharan

“Cared”

She just cared so much.

So much, for everything.

It was just part of her,

And that was why she got hurt.

People knew she cared, and they took her for granted.

She would bend down to give a hand and people would tread on her hand.

She knew she’d  have to change, but it’s easier said than done.

And then the day dawned, she’d had enough.

Sh told herself “Enough”.-Shashvathi S Hariharan

“Colors”

Our life is a surge of colors.

We are in ourself, a beautiful rainbow.

Have you seen a rainbow?

It’s beautiful! And, it’s made of a lot of colors.

Colors that depict beauhy of itself.

Sometimes, you’re a bright yellow, to light up someone’s day.

And then, sometimes you’re a pretty pink, just too beautiful to handle.

I’ma red too, too spicy and rude to be human.

But then there’s blue when you feel deep in the dumps.

And the worst feared- black.

I feel black, dark and lonely.

I feel alone.-Shashvathi S Hariharan

Extremes” and another one I didn’t name. Meh.

Have you ever noticed, sometimes in life you’re either gasping for breath either because you’re laughing way too hard or you’re crying way too hard. The extremes always leave you breathless.

*****†***†***********†******

Sometimes I wished life was a lot simpler,

But I have come to understand that,

If life decided to collapse, it would collapse gracefully,

And rebuild itself with utmost strength.

Strength, that will uphold it next time. -Shashvathi S Hariharan

Sometimes life has come to a point, where crying, talking or poetry don’t mean anything more.

She took a deep breath.

It would be the last adventure of her life.

She let her feet slip,

And she soared.

She felt pumped once and for last.- Shashvathi S Hariharan.

***********†***************†

And then silence prevailed.

They got closer and closer. And almost everything had come to order.

She felt complete.-Shashvathi S Hariharan

*******************†*****†**

That’s not all. I’ve written lots of other which I’ve misplaced and will take 84 years to find. So the next blog I’d probably get more.