Is there a thing called love the mere concept of it in all the other living organisms other than a human being or if there is, it is similar to the one humans talk about the one where you draw boundary lines the one where limits are defined the one where you can unlove a
Our generation is stuck in a trendy world where hookups are a party away where fake love is all over the place where trust cannot be traced where honesty is only found in books where friends do not exist, only snakes Where followers define your beauty But they don’t know that you are much more
Do you feel it? Do you sense it? It feels like magic Like something mysterious But wait, Ssshhhh Don’t say anything Don’t open your mouth Otherwise, it will lose its meaning Don’t entangle the feelings in words Because of honey! Words never play fair Do you think such a mysterious power can be caged in such small
Is it just in mind? Or does something really exists? I can’t decide there is something about you so addictive, so magnificent I just can’t stop thinking about you But when did this happen? How did it happen? I have no clue I can’t trace it back Could you believe that? A girl like me
All the nights that I have struggled with questions Questions that sabotaged my soul Questions that damaged my heart Questions that scared the child to death Some said to pray, and you will find the answers Some said soul searching would give you the right direction Horrors, terrified, scared, and whatnot But little did I
I believe the thought that brings a broad smile to your face, the one that your facial expressions can’t resist, the one that lights up your face, and the one that uplifts your mode, should not be resisted. It would be unfair to resist it because no matter what that thought is, it holds a
It’s not a bed of roses. The smiles disappear, the tears are shed, and the laughter is converted to silence. Still, life blossoms, nurtures and grows. That’s the beauty of it. It goes on. At some point, you feel like killing yourself. You want to quit. But, Nah! When mother nature changes its cycle, when
There comes a time when the scars on your skin no more sadden you; it makes you feel more beautiful. The bruises get carved upon your skin so that it gets impregnated upon your veins. But it does not hurt anymore. It does not make you quit. It does not convince you to end. The