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If you ask me,
How are you doing?
I’ll smile,
Tuck the truth behind my teeth,
and say
“I’m fine.”
But if you pause,
look me in the eyes,
and ask again,
“No, how are you really doing?”
I might just tell you…
I’m tired
of living in a world where my worth
is measured in paychecks and productivity.
Where rest feels like guilt,
and ambition, a cage with velvet lining.
I am overwhelmed.
Buried in deadlines,
chasing dreams that leave blisters on my feet,
because I know what I want for my life
and I know it won’t come cheap.

Love?
I flinch at the thought.
Not because I haven’t loved,
but because I’ve inherited the heartbreak
of women who taught me to be cautious,
to hold back,
to never let it all in.
I keep my guard up
steel walls around a soft heart.
And truthfully?
I’m exhausted from the weight of my own armor.
But letting it down feels
too risky.
Too unsafe.
Sometimes,
I sit with the bitterness
of how much I give,
and how little I get in return.
And I wonder,
Is this what “hard work pays off” looks like?
I lie.
To others.
To myself.
I say I’m open,
say I’m healed,
say I’m ready
when love still terrifies me.
I’ve broken down this year
not once,
not twice,
but in silent nights
when nobody was watching.

And I hate that I question people’s motives,
not because I want to doubt them,
but because I have to.
Because trust is no longer my first language.
So yes…
You might ask, “How are you?”
And I’ll still smile.
Still nod.
Still say,
“I’m fine.”
Not because I am
But because,
honestly,
I don’t even know where to start.
Take a time out, give yourself a break. Because nobody will.
you wish for someone to understand you
to be by your side
even if he does nothing
just stay there so you don't feel lonely
when world tears you apart
he breath the same air as you do
if he cant do something better
just stay there and do nothing
you always wish for someone
to be there for you with you
and when you find no one
you go on a hunt
to find that one
or you completely abandon yourself
and let devil take over you
either you go see other and heal other
or you see other and hurt other
for if you are a kind one
you will choose the right
or if you are a thorny one
you will lick ones wound
for you think
what happened with you was unfair
so neither you live in ease
neither you let them
you dont let go
and hold your void like
your breaths depends on it
Nosy 1d
Writing my life away-
Like a play-
That won't stay-
Although it may-
Feel like that for now
I know deep down,
I'll be okay
Two wild tales to tell — there are two stray dogs chasing
pedestrians again. That’s the story they’re telling the authorities.
Meanwhile, on a sunnier day, a ledger’s pages yellow daily —
all outlasting the smoke of all the fires you swore were for your
own good. Cigarette-stained fingers; noir pages of a crime scene
unnoticed — that’s what it feels like, loving someone who’s
stopped seeing you as their focus. Funny, isn’t it? They stole
your heart but make you feel like a thief, for stealing all of their
time. They claimed they needed space, but weren’t they the ones
who first called you, their star?

The mirror in your bathroom is cracked; you can’t wash
it with your tears. But hasn’t the bathwater been quietly
counting them all?
____________

Now, there’s finance to be contemplated — those complicated
relationships, where compromise is contemplated, but then
quietly makes things complicated. But let someone hand me
a sans discussion —they’ll only subtract the font of my love
language, erasing the letters of my love before I’ve spelt them
out. To say we don’t talk like we used to. But truthfully?
We never spoke that deeply at all. As a lot of people still
drown in their shallow thoughts.
Parvathi Jul 19
When eyes turn into a mouth,
and many mouths spell the same,
they cook the scenery with spices
and serve it to mankind.
The superficial minds swallow it whole,
but the deeper ones search through the flavours,
tasting the raw truth beneath.

They take the news across minds —
bending it, twisting it, building it —
giving it a new form,
and pouring it into the pots of hollow heads.

Not all rumours are just rumours; some are truths wrapped in uncertainty.
This poem reflects how truth often gets twisted when passed from one mouth to another. Not everything we hear is false — sometimes, rumours are just truths hidden beneath layers of uncertainty.
Arna Jul 13
"In certain hard moments, not even your
comfort food,
favorite perfume,
healing music,
that one comforting conversation,
a peaceful walk in nature,
or a joyful outing can bring you back to normal."
"Because sometimes, it’s not about fixing the moment — it’s about surviving it."
Arna Jul 6
We all run after the ones
who don’t even turn to see us,
while the ones who truly care—
we leave waiting in the shadows.
And by the time we realize,
the gems are gone.
Yes… we are humans.
Flawed, emotional, and often, just a little too late.
We often chase the ones who don't care, while ignoring those who do—until it's too late. A quiet reminder of how human we truly are.
Forgetful dreams, trapped on the pillow of my
bed— tiptoeing thoughts, almost like a ballerina
having a good stretch. As an injured picture frame
hauls away the canvas of a dream on a stretcher.
Giving pretence for a pretender—and knowing
whether the weather decides to jump over your
head, is knowing when it has a spring in its step.

But it never bends to tender hearts—it only offers
them the work of love. A group of tenders; all their
touches tender, all enlisted in affection’s labor force.
And if it's a compulsory love, we'll love with force.

Cos Love is a chin check sport—and you pay
for it with the protruding part of a chin cheque.
Control, and out-of-control—to the ones living
so remote. But lose that island, and you lose control.
And lose the answer to the power of influence—
and you begin to question what control even means.
Control is part of that… this far, at least, but a life
without risk— is the risk of never having lived.
Because everything you love to do might just be
the very last thing that finally does you in.
anuj Jun 23
I was alive — when I look back.
I can preserve it, but I can’t get it back.
I want to shine, but I’m not a pearl.
I want to cry, but I’m not a girl.

This society says: “Be happy, be composed,”
But never lets us feel free and exposed.
I wore a mask I wasn’t allowed to take off.
I’m a boy in a world that calls me free —
But I’ve forgotten what free even means to me.
Please reacts readers
Arna Jun 10
You’ve got one life.
Don’t treat it like a stage for laughs,
when it’s meant to be a stage for growth.
Don’t make your life a joke.
Don’t make your life a JOKE
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