A teenager who started writing for praise, but learned to write for understanding.
English
You are my black ink— the one I used so many times, yet not enough to leave behind. You are my black ink, the one which bleeds through my pen, through my eyes, and I cover it up with lies, calling it just... “My mascara’s melting, guys.” You are
English
How can you compare a sculpture and an artist? They are physically dual, but have one soul. They seem human, but are God itself. They create. They destroy. They can't be compared. But one thing they lie about: It’s all fictional... or maybe it is? It'
Poem
They call it love I call it detachment because when you love a flower you won't pluck it— you'll let it stay. They call it love I call it attachment because when a mom hugs her child She wishes to stay still and never let go.
Poem
बारिश से मेरा एक सवाल है: क्यों आते हो ऐसे कि पूरी दुनिया को दिखाते हो कि तुम रो रहे हो? क्यों आते हो ऐसे कि पूरी दुनिया को दिखाते हो कि तु
Poem
Angels have fragile wings — That's why their love feels soft. Demons have cruel hearts — That's why their love feels poisonous. Witches wield black magic — That's why their love feels illusory. Ghosts have summoning power—That's why their love feels tragic. Beasts have
Poem
प्रकृति में मैं और मैं ही प्रकृति में समाई हूँ। जिस्म से लेकर जान और रूह भी, मारुत में मिलाई हूँ। साँसों संग धड़कनों को भी श्रृंखला सा सजाई हू
English
Some people write to love. Some write to be loved. Some write for love. Some write to move on. But... Some people write to heal, To love themselves even more. Some write for strangers, Telling how pretty they were. Still, they also write because they love. —Shristi
Poem
I dance with my own shadow, 'Cause there's no one to hold my trembling hands, or share soft gaze. I dance with my own shadow, 'Cause there's no one to match my pace, or move in the same sequence. I danced with my own