Pratyusha Pathak
@_pratyusha_
Someone who can write the saddest poem even after being very happy.....
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Everything That Destroyed Her
Each time she wanted to hide her pain, Something shook her so hard that she fell back, Into the ditch full of flashbacks. Everytime she wanted to tell someone, What she was going through, She unknowing screamed with pain, Into the ears of someone, Who knew everything of her, But knew nothing about her. She kept running from her past, But at each turning, She bumped into something, That ruined her life. Not once. Not twice. But every single time, With no otherwise. She spoke to herself every day, Even though she wanted to, Talk to someone else, But she never understood that, That someone never wanted to listen to her. Her past taught her nothing, But some anger and ended up, Gifting her the habit of being in, Pain, grief and agony. Her history taught her nothing, But to live in the darkness, Where everytime she tried to lit the candle, It got blown away with her own breath. She blamed no one but herself She punished no one but herself. She never wanted to be rude to anyone. This never meant she never wanted to speak up. She planned for a revenge every second, Of the life of hers, Which was ruined by the people, Who took away her innocence. She brightened the fire in her heart, With which she wanted to burn, Everything that destroyed her.
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Could You Please ?
Could you please, Stop asking for answers, Without even putting up the questions? Could you please, Stop punishing me, By pausing you precious voice, After every small fight? Could you please, Stop holding grudges, At my stupid childlike mistake, Which was never done to hurt you? Could you please, Stop being angry on me, Even after my repeated apologies? Could you please, Stop being so sweet, Since it has started giving me, False expectations? Could you please, Stop denying to learn about, My foolish ways of kidding? Could you please, Start understanding me, Before it's too late ?
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Virtual Friend But A Real Enemy
I thought it would be me, The person whom you would call, The apple of your eye, But I wonder how the tables have turned, Not me but she settled in your heart, Whom I considered a virtual friend, And a real enemy. It was me who silently fought, For you and just for you, Without expecting any gratitude, I realised that the tables have turned, In the favour of my virtual friend but the real enemy, When I saw you hugging and thanking her, For every sacrifice made by me. I'll know that the table was never on my side, When I'll be starting my after life, And hear you saying, I was just a 'good' person, And I'll remember the funeral, Funeral of the person I called, My virtual friend who was indeed a real enemy. You allowed your beautiful shiny eyes, To shed those pearl like tears, Which I would have never allowed to drop, Only if you saw my existence even a bit.
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An Open Letter To A Friend
How do I tell you, What you mean to me? World is too small, Universe is too small, Everything is too small. But one day,  I'll surely tell you, how much I needed you, when I walked over the fire. I never wanted you to along walk with me, When I was in pain. I never wanted you to bear the grief with me.  All I wanted was that when I completed my journey, You would be the one to worry about the injuries I had. I wanted you to be the person to see if I was fine. I wanted you to be the person who would hold my hand And never let go and take me to every place where,  I could find happiness, with you. I could find the love, from you. I could find the joy, with you. I could find the love, from you. If you ask me for my happiness, I would say, its you. If you ask me for my pain, I would say, its without you. If you ask me for my joy, I would say, its being with you. If you ask me for my life, I would say, It's only and only you. I tried a lot to tell you, in every possible way. But may be I was always wrong. May be everytime, I needed you. May be giving you everything I had was wrong. May be thinking that you were my friend, was wrong.
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I Always Cry In Front Of The Mirror
I always cry in front of the mirror, Not because I want to see how I look, With that expression which, Screams out with agony. I always cry in front of the mirror, Just to spot out, If the tears had something more, To hide or a lot to speak. I always cry in front of the mirror, To solve the mystery, Which lies behind there cunning smile, On seeing a scared young girl cry, And gift her more reasons to shed them. I always cry in front of the mirror, Because I search for that single tear, Which might turn out to be fake. But I know this game of treasure hunt, Has no end and will continue forever, Since none of the tears, Have the lust to gain sympathy. I always cry in front of the mirror, To inspect the peculiarity of the tears, Not on the cheeks of the teen, But in the dark heart, As it never ends, Instead of infinite wipers. I always cry in front of the mirror, Just to find if those drops of salt water, Were loyal and honest enough, To convince the universe to grant me, The only pleasurable boon, I have been pleading for Of returning to me my sign of innocence, Since eternity.
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A Trip to Realisation
Curious, but coward to ask, What went wrong, With the eyes of her friend, That even denied to look at her. The road was wobbly, Just like her heart, Through the dense forest, With canopy and the sun, As bright as her mind. The other two cracked Their creepy jokes sitting behind, But the doors of her ears, Were narrow for them to enter. The thin passage had been waiting, For the melodious voice of her friend, Which was kept from reaching her, Without her knowledge. On the seat beside the steering, Of the shiny open blue car, Her views either on the mirror, Or the mysterious face of the driver with fear. She was going to celebrate her birthday, As planned on the highway, With the best people of her, Nineteen year old life, Irony lied in the fact that the closest one, Even being terribly desperate to speak, Was asked not to use her voice, Until the clock strikes midnight. Her lips grabbed the courage, And managed to move making a sound, "What's wrong with you people ?" The back seated replied with a laughter, "It's your birthday tomorrow Or rather tonight, What could possibly go wrong ?" She miserably replied, "What could be more wrong, Than my best friend ignoring me, Right the day before my birthday ?" The driver had her eyes on the road But on her friend, Silently peeping into her hear. She had her ears to the music, But listening to her friend, Who whispered without a sound. She had her lips singing the song, But saying to the to-be birthday girl, "I love you the most" Yet the words never reached its destiny. Maybe the fight, Of the road and the blue car, Denied to witness this confession, Maybe the boastful rock, Standing in the middle of the path, Changed the direction, Not only of the car, But also the route of, Their immense friendship. The driver failed her driving test, Not being able to confess what she had to, Not being able to save whom she wanted to. Her glittering eyes didn't shine of pride But of tears. Her begs were not accepted. Her pleads were not heard by the ears, Which a few hours ago Used to lust for the voice. The dead heart didn't reply this time, Perhaps it was tired of answering faithfully. Perhaps it was too late. The car started with four buddies, Returned with the driver in black, Being accompanied by the three, Wrapped in white sheets. The road trip didn't end up, The car crashing the big tree, Diverted by the rock, But leading the alive, To the biggest realisation, Of the importance of confession.
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