Ayushi  
4.2k Followers · 99 Following

ok.
Joined 20 April 2019


ok.
Joined 20 April 2019
12 NOV 2022 AT 5:37

lamp of language

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30 OCT 2022 AT 11:49

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22 OCT 2022 AT 16:22

escapism

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25 SEP 2022 AT 21:21

When the abandoned house saw the half wrecked traveller burning himself instead of choosing to shrug the burden of grief and his thorny luggage off his shoulders, it wanted to help.
it wanted to walk a metre or two and convince the burdened man that it had a roof of experiential quality, and knew how to shelter and caress the skin and heart of a blemished soul; but it hung back on realising that its rooms smelt of dismay, forbidden joys and sickening dust, and might harm the man in painful ways.

When the abandoned house saw the half wrecked traveller intentionally avoiding its lonely substance,
its jagged bricks spoke a word or two,
it learnt why broken things, if put together with their scars wide open, on crossing paths, look at each other
and do not smile or hug.

hesitant to help or seek help
amidst their mind's unrest
emulating their isolated and tired form,

they continue to believe that their stories
dirty the dawn.

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21 SEP 2022 AT 1:22

I try to write a poem
which I know has nothing to do with "eyes" or the "moon".

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27 AUG 2022 AT 21:25

When I look at the withered havoc I used to be, a couple of questions begin to bother me. What is this color and skin, or the shape perhaps of tiredness that inhabits earth and everything that's in it, at least once? And while in this mouth of exhaustion, how many truths about the behaviour of life do we come across? That life is a complex thing with phases and colors and the multiplicity of factors that make it a life, is a premise for the ones who study it closely. But how close does one have to get to know the details of it? Is a bad experience, a tiring day, a scarred physique or an unhappy eye enough? Or is mankind's knowledge of failure and death and grief still powerless with a number of assumptions that deceptively make it look brilliant?

But if, oh if it happened that you were a worn out red flower, living in war and chaos, with questions about the mortality and grief of all things, know that there's one consolation - all this must be teaching you something:
About living,
About living best,
Without regrets.

Ayushi Singh

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13 AUG 2022 AT 21:41

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9 AUG 2022 AT 20:25

The last caution of the clock pierces your ears
And tells you that you don't have enough time left,
And that there are people who sing better than you,
So you pick up your feeble voice
And sing in pain, as if defeated.

Hush little heart, that clock is an ordinary musician
Who knows nothing but three of the seven notes;
One note to discipline the asleep,
Other to warn the ones in haste
And the last one to intimidate the ones struggling;

While you are a compilation of proses
That can be sung into songs.
Know that it will be okay,
If you sweat to sing them well.

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29 JUL 2022 AT 21:40

How to eat the truth:
without believing that the meal
is someone's peeled skin,
a fatal longing for erased hunger,
an arrow that ruptures the stomach of the anxious
existing around the truth.

How to taste
the gravity of those heavy apples that fall
on the lonely frames of chiselled hearts
without pondering upon why
some people want to hear anything but the truth?

How to feel the teeth
of those words that hold a few in their warm gaps
and scar the others?
~ sometimes, cause psychic pain.

Tell me how to eat the truth
inspite of knowing that
I too am
a vulnerable vessel
at ease with lies.

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14 JUL 2022 AT 17:08

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