Poem
Being alone isn’t about having no one. It’s about sitting with your thoughts when the world goes silent. It’s learning to hear your own voice without fear, to feel everything you kept buried under noise and smiles. Alone is not empty. It’s a space where you
Poem
A little sparkle, a shiny spectacle Innocence was her virtue, her desire We call this our soul Holding her sterility Sometimes though earth shatters The land shifts subtly under the ground Knee crumbles onto a fetal position The stomach bounces in sense of doom Yet the little sparkle, delightful in
Poem
I know how the world works the metaphors are imaginative and a rule is the pattern the universe follows But really! I want to be the exception they bewilderingly talk about in the movies, in the romance novels where a man who never believed in love falls heavily for a
Poem
The smoke rises slowly, carrying words that were never spoken. It fades into the air, just like feelings we pretend don’t exist. For a moment, it feels warm, comforting even— then it disappears, leaving behind a quiet ache. Some people don’t heal. They turn their pain into smoke—
Poem
She cries quietly, not because she is weak, but because she has been strong for too long. Each tear carries words she never said, promises she kept, and wounds she learned to smile through. The world sees her silence, but not the storms she calms alone. She doesn’t cry
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
The year will change its number like a witness changing clothes. Nothing about the crime will be different. The calendar flips, a mere rehearsal of hope before returning to the mundane, just like newly bought planners, just like your promise to never text them back, to never accept an apology
English
Have you ever felt so confused that you can’t see a path forward? At times like that, you need that one person—not to fix anything, but just to make you feel better, to quiet the fight inside your head. But he isn’t here anymore. So you keep
English
Maybe writing is a not an obvious art form. You don't create butterflies out of thin air or spin delicately 7 times in a row. But then again, what is more artistic than to create a fictional place where true love exists, where friends sacrifice themselves for each
English
Krishna and Draupadi’s friendship reminds us of one timeless truth.. a real friend never allows your self-respect to be broken. Draupadi did not ask Krishna to fight for her ego or pride; she only asked for the protection of her dignity. And Krishna understood her pain without words, because
English
Some nights feel heavier than others, not because of loneliness, but because of memory. Because of all the moments I replay in my head where I could’ve chosen better, spoken softer, listened longer, paused instead of reacting. I look back and realize how many times love was right there
Poem
She kept staring at the door, waiting for him— every day, every hour, every minute. When the doorbell rang, her heart would race. With every chime, she hoped that this time, it would be him. And when he returns, after battles fought and miles endured, she will hold him. Her