Not a pleasant morning afterall. 

It was dark outside. No sound to be heard. Everyone was in deep sleep, it seemed. I checked the clock and it was nearly three. This morning was different. I never woke up at three before. But, this time I was wide awake with random thoughts racing, and their voice echoing in my head.

You’ve changed”!
“You don’t talk to us like you used to”!
“You better get studying”!
“It’s the last year of school”.
“I’m leaving”.

Their words, their tone, exactly the same. One after another, they shut me up. I pulled my hair, punched the wall, but they never stopped. There was a sudden pinch in my throat. It ached really bad. I wanted to scream. Wanted to tell them to shut up. I just wanted to yell! But, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop my tears. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop myself. I was a complete mess in the first hour of the day. 

Minute after minute, all I could think of was this. It hurted me till the core. But, I couldn’t do anything. I was stuck in the middle of something. I’m not sure what! 

My hand started to hurt. My throat, it was just about to tear. How long? For how much longer, should I face this shit?! Is there anything good made for me? 


The girl with a broken wing.

Tied by chains, she pulled herself.
The sky grew dark.
The wind howled.
The leaves rustled.
It wasn’t less than a nightmare.


She couldn’t fly anymore.
They broke her wing,
Took her flight away, took her heart away.
She was trapped,
Bound by chains.
There stood a girl with a broken wing
And a broken dream.


The storm raged,
Scattered every single piece of her.
She screamed. She cried.
Her eyes burned.
But, they flew right past her.
Bound by the chains,
She was the girl with a broken wing.

~Sapphire Wilson

P.S. This is my first poem after two years. I apologise for any mistake.I have completely lost the skills to write anyway. So trying to get back on track, I start up with this.

I’m just tired.

​I’m tired of the feign love.
I’m tired of the feign friendships.
I’m tired of being let down everytime.
I’m tired of being hurt.
I’m tired of trying.
I’m tired of pretending to be fine when I’m not.
I’m tired of my flaws.
I’m tired of feeling broken, damaged, worthless.
I’m tired of letting people know I exist.
I’m tired of being a third wheel.
I’m tired of being attached to people.
I’m tired of letting people in my lives and burning me up.
I’m tired of the fake promises.
I’m tired of all the lies.
I’m tired of being treated like shit.
I’m tired of holding it all in.
Yes. And now, I’m tired of being tired.



I’ve cared enough. Thank you for your love. 

We often create bridges to connect with people. Love. Pain. Wanting. Anxiety. Hate. What else do two people need to stay in touch?

~Omair Tarique

We aren’t who we used to be. We’ve changed bridges from love and friendship to pain and hate. I dont know if you feel the same or is it just me thinking about crap. Yes, crap. Because, in the end I would be the one sitting there thinking overthinking about how we were and how we have become. Why do I even care? Why do I keep thinking about shit? Why do I? 

After you changed, I always tried to talk and always tried to bring back the old you, the old us. But no, you never let me. You broke your connection with me, and the worst part of it was is back bitching. You’ve back bitched about me. Yes, I got to know. Sad, huh? See… the one’s you trust dont really like you. Cause perhaps you’ve behaved the same with them and now all you are doing is trying to act sweet. But, I was the one who really cared. But… oops, to late now… I’m glad I slipped off your hands. This time, I’m glad you oiled your hands before you could grab mine. And yes, I’m not gonna forgive you like I used to. I’m done with hearing all the nonsense. Times may have changed but you didn’t. Thank you for so much love. Thank you for the care. Thank you. 

Friendships don’t turn out to be the best part of my life. 



Failures pushed her. She saw no hope. It wasn’t a great day; but like most of the days she felt what nobody ever understood. ‘Building special memories?’, she thought was just a misnomer. The urge to scream ended up with nail marks on her hand. The clutter she had built ended up with blood on the floor. And the dark days ended up with wet pillows at night. 

It wasn’t the end of her life. It wasn’t the good time either. But she had waited enough for the beautiful days to come back, she had waited enough for the people around her to understand how harsh it feels on hearing those words, she had waited enough for those special people to come back in her life, she had waited too long; this just had to happen. 

The pressure of scheduled tests wasn’t easy to handle. And those thoughts, those words rang in her ear every single time she opened the books. Fudgeling, made it worse. 

Life was challenging her. And it had been too long, she failed and was left in a worse state.

Her heart ached. Her strength was lost. She needed someone to hug her and say they’re there for her. She needed someone to stay. She needed a little love. She needed to breathe.