Words under siege
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  • Votes 1
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
  • Reads 3
  • Votes 1
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published May 17, 2021
Words may seem powerless, when carelessly thrown at each other. 
But at some point, we all witness their mighty strength as they cut through our hearts and reach for our souls.
Gasping, when we stumble back due sheer strength, that's when we realise their true meaning. 
So here I am, trying to string together all the tales that escaped my casual outlook, all the letters I took for granted, all the words that I should've said and some that I shouldn't have uttered at all. 
These are the stories of words that store pain of own who betrayed and left, unknowing loyalty of those strangers, happiness of that kind gesture, sorrow of that long forgotten memory, apprehension about that first daring step, of tears which danced with rains at times and soaked pillows, the other times, stories of unreasonable fears, surprising love, weak- strong bonds, impossible dreams, joy bundled in tiny little moments and much more . 
These are the bits that photos don't capture, only words scratched on hidden pages do. 
An outlet of emotions that we all bottle up, waiting for right place, right person to open up to, but which often open explodes without our permissions, sneaking past our heavily guarded walls for all the wrong reasons and at most wrong of places. 
This is collection of poetry, through which I'm trying to give a way to feelings that we seldom say out aloud, but just keep under siege,  somewhere at back of our rib cages, waiting for them to be swallowed and disappear. 
But they don't.
Unless we suffer at their hands, 
wallow our hearts out for them to pity, 
And then someday muster just enough courage to fight with and brave past. 
So think of it as our story of victory.
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Thoughts of a Juvenile  by jyfvjhtv
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Words are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hobby is an activity we do to express ourselves, our beliefs and our thinking. For example through drawing, dancing, singing, etcetera. Writing a poem is one of such hobbies. Here words are used. These words and messages are far more twisted. A poem hits the mind, a good poem hits the heart. Thoughts Of A Juvenile is just a collection of my poems.I started writing poems when I was 8. I may not be a great writer. But yeah I write to express. There have been times for me like many other teenagers where I thought I was lost and helpless. There have been good times too. I'm standing on the edge of teenage now, telling you that you can survive this. You can survive everything. All you need is to find your strengths. There are sad nights and then there are mornings full of opportunities. Don't give up. I'm here and I'll always be here. Whenever you feel down just remind yourself "Be stupid". Go out in public and the eat the food you like alone, ask out your crush, flirt like there's no one watching, dance like a ghost has possessed your body, prank people, have a little chat with the nerds you know. Surviving is an art not many can master. Be a Master. There are mistakes in this book and I tried my best to correct them. But couldn't correct them all. I would really love to receive reviews and criticism. Vote if you like it. Comment your views. And follow for more poems. Add it to your reading list or library.
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(under editing, interested ones may reach out to me) In the symphony of love, their melodies intertwined, yet fate's chorus whispered no promise of forever. In a journey where hearts yearned but souls wandered apart, they discovered that true love sometimes meant embracing the courage to release, for the sake of finding happiness in the echoes of what could have been. ... SNEAK A PEAK Never have I ever thought that one day, I'll wake up to hear these words from a person I love the most, romantically. I pushed him back, I held him by his shoulders and pinned to the wall. I know I wrongfully confined him, but how dare he? 'You dare question my love for you?" I raised my voice. He is surprised, he widened his little eyes, those I would love to stare at all day or may be he is shocked as well. HAHA!! I Find it annoyingly funny how easily he quoted 'Thank god, You didn't love me too deep in the ocean', "Oh darling, wait till you drown inside and ask for my help when you can't swim to the shore" I retorted and defended my love.