scriptedserenity

[scriptedserenity]

Somedays - it feels it would have been better to be somebody else.Somebody who cared less and expected less. Somebody who didn't wake up startled when the voices at home grew louder.To grow like a child and not an always on duty officer!

To be someone who didn't care - thus little things wouldn't matter and being overlooked would hurt a little less ,even if it was a last day at home.

To not constantly being on the verge of breaking down under all pressures and finding solace in psychology books because they are the only place that seems to understand what I go through!

To be somebody - anybody - else who has fewer flaws and fewer regrets. Someone unburdened by the weights I carry. Somebody whose mind was a little less cluttered ,unclouded by endless questions and possibilities that the future might bring.

Somebody maybe not like me - who cries a little less and who isn't so childish - somebody I could be a little more proud of!

[scriptedserenity]

I'll never know what person I am in the process of becoming, neither will I know what person I've been all these years that will eventually shape 'the woman' that curly haired overthinker is.

The one who aces all english tests without feeling the requirement to open the book Or one who ran away from mathematics class to avoid the surprise test.

The one who wears sash, not of her position, but of the hopes everyone has from her or one that lays down her head on the last bench too wrecked to know what's happening.

The speaker everyone knows by 'you're always on the mic right! ' or the listener to whom people narrate all that they've been through..

The not so cool kid who just can't get comfortable with everyone or the girl to whom people say "you understand me like no one else. "

The one who writes heart wrenching poems or the one who is too scared at the idea of losing night's sleep over someone else!

I'll never know if I am the person who always reports early to get things done or the one who bunks the classes to get that hot cheese roll before recess.

No one can tell!

[scriptedserenity]

You ask me what poetries are for?

In this world so large and grand,

When some stay with traditions,

others run for trends..

Where love simply means noises of the nights,

And everyone is busy singing stories of their own plights.

You say just a set of rhyming sentences,

Can be the remedy for them and heal their grievances?

Laughing a little on this,I still choose to stay numb.

As they wonder why solution of every other problem for me is a poem?

It goes in like a dagger yet heals you up,

In windy winter nights, it's a Ginger tea cup.

It is the very soul of the traditions

And yet the trendiest of trends.

And a home for wanderers,who lost themselves

In this large world,so grand.

It lives to say the saga of sacrifces for love,

And it's very first of flight.

Stories that reside in our hearts,rent-free,

And weren't stifled in dead noises of night.

And yes,what you call simply as rhyming sentences

Are a refuge for broken souls to heal their grievances.

To those who couldn't speak up,

It is there voice

And yet not all my friend, can make sentences rhyme.

It comes at a price

Only Those who have drowned themselves in oceans can write.

Oceans of extreme agony,of loss and vain.

Poetry comes at a price,

And that price is pain...

When the core speaks! 🌟

[scriptedserenity]

I want my poetries to burn in eternal flames of literature

I want it to be the fire that continues to ignite the pens of souls long unheard

I want my story to be the voice of the souls that remain silent not because they have nothing to say,

but because the unfathomable beauty of their alluring words blinds the world with their glory.

I want my words to be the reason people continue to pen down the enchanted words buried deep in their heart,

I want myself to be remembered as someone consumed by the galaxies of words and poems that eased the burden of being soaked by agony of the world.

I want us to be remembered as someone who found peace in embellishing our pains

For it was never a glorious flame, all that fire.

It was just something that burned our core.

[scriptedserenity]

December 11th.

A thoughtful winter dusk.

It's always little things that have mattered to me. When someone prefers to wait for me after classes so that we walk home.When someone wants to keep me updated about their whereabouts because I worry. Trust. Share what you love, what makes you love it.

Tell me when did you take your first steps and what was the first words your voice sang, what makes you lose your sleep in night and why you love long hugs. Tell me what makes you cry and what are the things you laugh about the most!

Tell me what makes you love a person.

Tell me why you love the particular part of your favourite song.

Annoy me.

Be my headach.

But, unfortunately this world loves exaggerations and subtle things,silent love and loving souls are long misfits.

Therefore, I keep my love to myself.

[scriptedserenity]

And when you are locked in your room, overflowing with feelings and droplets threatening to leave your eyes at any moment you can't breathe and sit in a corner and not a soul knows that you are breaking.. Shattering.. When you question every pounce of love you've mercilessly gave away only to be left a shallow individual wondering where exactly did everything go so wrong.

Is that what the euphoric beautiful emotion 'love' looks like?

[scriptedserenity]

Do you only lose people when they finally abandon you?

Or when death does you apart?

Or does it happen bit by bit

When you wish to clutch to whatever little remains

But it's only you and thus, you see your love slowly burning in ashes of agony that consumes you from inside as well

And you sit and watch your world fall apart

When you miss the light that sparkled in their eyes

When you don't find the long lost smile

When you are left drowning in middle of the oceans

And the only boat sways away?

Or when the you feel alone

In what was just your own

And when the person you nurtured

Cradles in another realm

And yet is afraid to let go your hand?

Do you only lose people when they finally leave?

[scriptedserenity]

'White as snow, cold as ice.'

With winters knocking on the gates and end of year approaching us, and as we start looking back claiming how quickly the year went by, We are here welcoming the cold season.

Winters, to most, are gloomy and morose. The time of the year when everyone curls up under quilts and enjoys quests for warmth, some of us are still trying to search what might melt up coldness of our hearts. The reason why some of us still love the chilly gush of air on our faces is nothing but the fact that it's still warmer than our souls.

We, who find serenity in solitude and who search for realms of the peaceful world whose slight shadow comes to life in winters when world shuts itself behind doors, finding comfort in warmth of fireplaces.

We, who love winters for their warmth.

We, who are broken souls waiting for someone to heal us.

Tranquil.

And another winter goes by!

~scripted serenity.

[scriptedserenity]

The laburnum top or 'The human heart'!

Once I read this poetry about how a bird inhabited a lonely tree and filled it with delight, only to abandon it yet again. Though a small poem,the message conveyed by it moved me. It changed something.

Ain't that the very thing about life?

Coming of people in our lonely lives to make us believe in existence of this weird emotion we refer to as love?

And then the very moment we are used to their presence around us they are snatched away in the blink of an eye and we are left with our old self.

Alone and abandoned.

That moment of epiphany. The moment when the reality of absence of rainbows and unicorns hits you and you try to hide the waves of grief drowning you by clinging to anger and cover yourself in this shell of hatred and contempt while the grief continues to consume you from inside.

The truth,however,is revealed if you stay long enough with these emotions.It is nothing but your own fear of forming the same bonds again.It is not the love you fear but the pain that followed the initial affection the first time.

Until,someday again,a chirping bird inhabites your lifeless branches and makes you feel alive again!