I Write When I'm Sad Cause I'm Pretty Busy When I'm Happy.

I write when I'm sad cause I'm pretty busy when I'm happy.

More Posts from Thewritingark and Others

10 months ago

And once again, I endured the pain, I never caused.

~ark

And Once Again, I Endured The Pain, I Never Caused.
And Once Again, I Endured The Pain, I Never Caused.

Done being the PUNCHING BAG.


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11 months ago

Blinded Eyes

Blinded Eyes

I trusted my eyes blindly,

I guess that's what humans do.

But my illusion shattered,

As the pigments of lies,

Reflected the fictitious truth.

The light was biased, I believed,

But its innocence was trapped in an endless loop.

Refusing to bow before the unproven facts,

I decided to perceive it with a different view.

I tried to become a pigment myself,

Reflecting my sins into actions my apathy sew.

But the law of the cosmos remained constant,

I surrendered, confessing to my vengeance's coup.

~ark


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1 year ago

The Pot's Everything

The Pot's Everything

The seed sown in a pot, Nourished with its care in ways untaught. The pot's everything was the plant. The reason for its existence was the plant. One day, The plant outgrew the pot. And was now held by the other. The pot, abandoned because of its care, Swore to never love anything in its life, Due to the hidden fear. But the other seed sowed in its heart, Germinated and opened it once again, Knowing, that it wouldn't sustain. But still grew just to keep the pot's soul alive, To keep it filled with warmth, For bringing the another to life.

~ark


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10 months ago

Falling

Falling

I was falling, Deep into the air. It felt like I was flying, Descending in the layers. The ground would catch me, Why would I fear? Numerous hands tried to save me, I was just flying, why do they care? My excuses came to an end, I wish I would've dared. But, even if I held someone's hand, How do I assure myself, That those hands won't leave me, In the middle of somewhere.

~ark


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1 year ago

Free

Free

I walked on the wet path, While the earth pulled me close. Splashing my face in the water, Its stillness reflected my unfulfilled vows. I ran far away, To be free and fly. I broke all the barriers, I thought held me back. But I realised, I was a kite, Taking a directionless flight, I broke the string of my life, Thinking I would finally be alive


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11 months ago

Diminishing Hope

Diminishing Hope

I let myself suffer,

With intentions that were never pure.

Standing at the piedmont of growth,

I felt my feet frozen, unable to move anywhere.

My eyes scanned both the ways,

Walking onto which, my survival would be declared.

Afraid of the extremes,

I chose to never try, I turned away with shun ears.

Lacking the courage to fight for my life,

I stood freezing gradually, I faced my fears.

Melting by the newly found energy,

I became essential, drops of water to be shared.

Known to the fact of being fatal,

I returned from my illusions unreal.

In the diminishing hope of reality,

My pain defined me,

The master of my endless prayers.

~ark


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9 months ago

The Changed Tables

The Changed Tables

The tables stood there,

Watching new faces every year.

The words unsaid,

Were written on them everywhere.

Tired minds laid,

The tables wiped the shed tears.

Handling the burden of books,

It was their duty,

That I couldn't share.

Years after, I visited them,

Venting out my fears.

The tables stood there,

Watching new faces every year.

But today they had changed,

Maybe I could've changed earlier.

~ark


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1 year ago

The Fall

The Fall

And, as I watched the sun, Setting in the depths of the ocean, Sitting on the coast of darkness. I was relieved to witness, The rise of serenity. I laid on the sand, With a mind, finally free from the prison of thoughts. As the hours travelled like seconds, I soon realized that the peace wasn’t for long. Finding solace in the shed of despair, The sunrays will pierce my soul, again. The glare of the sun that followed me everywhere, With its fall, Will take everything with it, I will ever care for.

~ark


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7 months ago

My own work disgusts me, at times. I find it flat, I find the words that had depth now are as shallow as a children's pool. I look to the right, and then to the left: so many other of us here and there, their poems with hard-to-read fonts, and crazy weird background colors. Big ones, 10k+ ones, think they are fools. But I see the magic, I see the struggle, the courage, the craziness, the sadness, the reflection in the mirror—blurred. The writing is good, but my eyes are dull—addicted to the aesthetic, to the trend, to the dopamine cycle, to the movement—how do I break this cycle? I'm being swallowed by it! I want to me the same, and to fight the norm. I want to inform, to conform, to deform, and then to destroy everything. I want to be real, to open a way, to see and be seen, and to become, and delight in the fact that I am another human being.

4 months ago

The Coin of Heroes and Villains

Villains and heroes are a jest,

Both are like either sides of a coin,

One will always be below and the other on top,

And neither will stand on their sides,

It depends on us who the villains are,

Or wether they be the head or tail,

The world really does not care that much,

But we will always be the villain on neither side.

Mr. Waltz

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  • thewritingark
    thewritingark liked this · 8 months ago
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    starsinmysoul liked this · 8 months ago
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    thewritingark reblogged this · 8 months ago

"Words are your only friends, aren't they?""Better than people anyway"

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