Shame Stories

She wants to be acknowledged, not just seen. She wants to be relevant, not overlooked. She wants to be happy, not disappointed. Follow Tinsley's journey to self-discovery. Maybe she can gradually create a life that's worth fighting for. Isn't that what we all want? ''' Tinsley Payne just wants to fit in. In fact, that's all she's ever wanted. Her entire life has been one chaotic storm after another, slowly and scarily destroying anything in its path. Happiness has been pretty hard to come by, though Tinsley insists that it's out there. How can a girl be so optimistic in a life full of let downs? Is she only fooling herself to believe that even the most damaged people, ultimately receive happy endings? I suppose time will tell... after all, she's got plenty of that on her hands.

Que es Murillo... para algunos comedia para el tragedia

A poem about a mother's internalized shame and subsequent overprotectiveness of her son, which ultimately ends up doing more harm than good.

A father recollects the loss of his son and his wife.

Just read it !

When life gives me an overdose of fruit salad and I go mindless courtesy of its sweetness, sourness and even bitterness at some point. The whims and caprices of my poetic side all in a cup of freshly brewed cocktail. I hope this will give you a good read. God bless and have fun!

We all know about the infamous Marie Antoinette, the beautiful blonde Austrian who became the glue holding France and Austria together. A living price treaty. A husband who didnt love her. A people who hated her. What if she was just greatly misunderstood, unloved, and a victim of rumours. A young girl who was over exposed .

...but do something about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1)'Niqaab Talks' Why don't we give Niqaab( veil of Muslim women) a chance to speak today? 2) 'Two-headed snake' The double standard of the authorities reflect a clear disparity towards the Dalit, adivasi communities. Based on the recent issue in which two Dalits had to lit fire on themselves as they were thrashed away from their fields by the police in order to get the land for building a college. Their two children was also present at the site.

A person prays and as they do deems themselves good scorning the wrong of another, blindly not seeing hypocrisy they emit - they themselves use wiles to manipulate men. 'Honor' here is self righteous.

We all want something more an anything. So did Sky. She wanted him. She got him. Then she lost everything she ever loved.

The Perpetual Anguish is my record of a life that slowly stops insisting on its own exception. In my late twenties, I begin to treat every interaction as a quiet confirmation that I am misplaced. Robots outperform me without hesitation. Men and women move through the world with a coherence I cannot replicate-more composed, more capable, more fully assembled, as if they were built correctly while I was left unfinished. Even animals lose their distance. The cat and the dog in my home, simple and self-contained, no longer sit beneath me in any imagined hierarchy. I stop separating myself from them in any meaningful way. I arrive at a blunt, uncomfortable equality: I am on the same level as animals. Not as metaphor, not as comfort-just as fact in the way I experience myself. Another organism reacting to hunger, habit, and routine, without the clarity I keep expecting consciousness to provide. What follows is not collapse, but simplification. I stop believing I am meant for long expression. Long thoughts begin to feel like borrowed clothing-ill-fitting, performative. I give myself permission to exist only in fragments: quotes, jingles, brief observations never exceeding seven lines, each one a way of shrinking before I can be judged for taking up too much space. My inner world contracts around this rule. Every idea is edited before it fully forms. Every sentence is trimmed in advance, as if restraint is the only honest shape I can maintain. And so the book becomes what I have become: a series of brief, controlled reductions. Men and women, robots, and animals all remain moving through their own forms of certainty, while I exist as a quieter, reduced presence among them-no longer reaching upward, only continuing in fragments.

All about scared and anxiety and people who can be bitches

This book contains a non fictional story. It's the day to day narration of a young lady.Her mischiefs,the loneliness, the love... It's not for the faint of heart. Hope you enjoy

On the bus, the creep sat behind me, again. I can't take it anymore. I feel harassed. I feel trapped. I hate it.

YO YO YO ITS PAPI IKEGU IN THE HOUSE! ....I need a better introduction. Welcome to this Art Book! I have no idea why you would dare burn your eyes but I'm not gonna question it! All the art in this book of mine is MINE ONLY.

This is a series of poems, still in the making, that show a side to heroes and villains which is usually kept hidden from the crowd. Cover is not mine!