The Twinge

A load of emptiness crushed,
Crashed, stained a silent solitude.
The waves of glee quicked to recede,
And a strange weight of nothingness followed.

Did attempt not to think over, not to obsess,
with thoughts dismayed, depressed.
I implored what those had been,
and still wait for an answer to pass.

It was but a void, yet brimmed with inhibition,
An unending sorrow that lingered to haunt.
And I longed for the reply to it.
And I long for the end to it.

To be crowded was the isolation,
To be isolated was the peace.
Yet, the peace shrieked in pain,
A noise too loud to be heard.

Still persists the toil, the twinge,
to free myself from me,
from my vacant, yet crowded, mind,
from nihility.
         
               -- Shourya Shrivastava

Notes:-

• Twinge- A sharp emotional pain.
• Nihility- non-existence, nothingness.

Until She Dies And Dies Again...

With Reference to  Hyderabad Gang Rape-Murder .

⧫

The first week of strengthened show,

A few verses with heavy blow.

Walls brimming with gloomy shares,

Everyone hurt, everybody cares.

 ⧫

The mobs march with lit candles,

Greater sorrow in media handles.

The ‘royals’ yet in slumber deep,

“Let us let the masses weep.”

 ⧫

A fortnight more, another case will be born.

Who now cares about those dead and gone?

And this one sinks unattended too,

Surprising yet expected through.

⧫

All slack until it happens again,

Until she dies and dies again.

Until those freaks are burned alive,

The wait for justice eternalized.

Lost In A World That Doesn't Exist... (Sonnet)

💠
A figmented thought, A dusky tryst,
A glance upwide and change is swift,
Virtual worlds with masking mist,
Lost in a world that doesn't exist.
💠
The time is bleak, the shore is afarred,
And here I sail with a soul charred.
To guise the void no one sees,
In a lost world,with lost peace.
💠
The blood goes black, The pain is stark,
The wound unheals without a mark,
Lost is glee, the curves are lost,
Shadowed smirks in mythical costs.
💠
Still I stand with a weaponed fist,
To fight this world that doesn't exist.

Depression: Not Just a Loss Of Bliss....

▪️

It is a boulder,

Intrinsically pieced on me, by me.

They thought it's a stone

That I could kick ahead to,

A nothingness I cried waste to.

It was, but, a singularity,

Forcing me to a void abyss.

Not mere unhappiness,

Not just a loss of bliss.

▪️

It was guilt, of I know not what.

It was anxiety, and I was left to rot.

It was isolation, from myself.

It was my despise to self.

It was pure despair.

It wasn't fair.

It was……

▪️

Maybe I need repair...

The Night Is Dark...

Nights are beautiful,
They are dark,
Just like life, a stinging mark.
A bleeding spark, a completed arc, to disembark.

They're painful, but the pain bundled,
with a tingling pleasure, a humour,
That the day hides with its light.
Only to be reversed by a carbon night.

The night is a mystery,
Asks which is needed to be,
A question forever unanswered,
One among the countless each moon.

It is lonely, silent,
Yet an unbearable pitch,
Comes from inside, who knows?
Perceive the shrieks of infernos.

It is cold, chilling,
Blanketed shivers down the spine
It's not the weather,
But flashes of the time together.

The night, the night it is,
A dark beauty, a paining glee,
A silent scream, an iced mystery.

One night, the night shall never cease,
That night'll be the night
Of my peaceful decease.

- By Aditi Shahdadpuri and Shourya Shrivastava