LA POESIE DE LA VIE

  Poetry dies, whenever I write, Crying in the corner of an unknown site. Maybe that’s the only way I lie, Sobbing in the silence I can’t deny. Poetry dies, whenever I write, Yet bleeds through cracks I try to hide. If this is death, then tell me why It feels so alive when I let it die.

  I like it black and cold, quiet as a thought I never told, Maybe that’s how I like it the most, just like an arabica roast. Sharp on the tongue, soft in the soul, a kind of silence that makes me whole, no need for sweetness, no need to pretend, it stays honest from start to end. In every sip, a story untold, of nights that linger, of hearts that hold, a little bitter, a little free exactly how it feels to be me.

Will you dance with me? I asked her. She was silent. Not even a whisper slipped from her lips. It made me step back, hesitatingly...slowly, slowly. Then, she began to move, mirroring my every step. Back and forth, matching the rhythm of the soft music. It felt like we were dancing on stars, melting into the moment, step by step, until the end. But then I realized...  she was only a shadow, a figment of my imagination. And there I stood, alone, with tears trailing down my cheeks. In that moment, It struck me life is a path where we often can't tell what’s real and what’s a reflection. Still, we fight to prove we’re right, to show we feel: Sadness, suffocation,  And burning with anger...  - By Prerna Diwan  

We are different, one of us points towards thinking about what people might say, whereas I think about when this life will fade away, or what's the point of living, if the reward is death ! Maybe life is nil, A play that plays again and again. we are lied to that new day brings new sunshine. however, the past comes crawling back to you, till the present to the future. You care about your life, your problems, your feelings, forgetting the meaning of life, that's what I am curious about, I am tired of the knots of judgements, knots of making people feel bad and give them no reason to live for, just prove yourself that you deserve to love. My friend, we aren't the same at all. you think a person with money is the Winner of Life, But is it true? A winner is a person who goes beyond the system, like in the game, But this game is not about money, Its about love, living, Being grateful, working on yourself, Not to achieve anything, but making people believe that they deserve to li...

Remember the time,  when it was insane.  Cuddling the wind,  walking on the stars.  I didn't mean to be sinned. Lost in the dance of unspoken scars.  Remember the time,  when it was insane.  Where I say,  that wasnt the game,  Maybe it's not the time to play,  Maybe I shouldn't dance, while the blood is bleeding out,  That's begging me to stop, but all I want is a nice dance..  Remember the time,  when it was insane Now, the floor is stained, and the music slowly fades, The stars don’t shine the way they did, The wind is cold against my skin. I wish this could be my last win.  - by Prerna Diwan

Death is all Shiny, only when the sky turns black, when darkness turns darker, everything turns out to be tiny, except for the wish to die,  sometimes, water runs down,  when my life flashes through my eyes, turns out this makes it harder,  to live with the people,  who was still alive in love. 

  ONCE UPON A TIME, I LIVED BENEATH A TREE OF LIME. EVERY NIGHT, WHEN I LOOKED OUTSIDE, A STRANGE AND EERIE LIGHT WOULD SHINE. ONCE UPON A TIME, I LIVED BENEATH A TREE OF LIME. THERE STOOD A HOUSE, FULL OF LOVE AND PSYCH, BUT AT NIGHT, I'D HEAR A PIERCING SCREAM, A VOICE SO WILD, IT HAUNTED MY DREAMS. ONCE UPON A TIME, I LIVED BENEATH A TREE OF LIME. THE PLACE FELT ANCIENT, LIKE A GREEK SHRINE, YET EVERY NIGHT TURNED TO HORROR'S STAGE, A CHILLING STORY IN EVERY NEW PAGE. MAYBE THAT'S WHY, I FOUND THE COURAGE TO FIGHT AWAY. - PRERNA DIWAN

It was the time when  Nature itself was catching fire. I wonder—was this earth a lie?   Even nature longed to burn to ashes,   While trees crumbled in their clashes.     It was the time when   Nature itself was catching fire.   Everyone packed to leave the city behind,   Yet a few stayed, clinging to its essence,   Dreaming of a world they could somehow design.     It was the time when   Nature itself was catching fire.   People and animals lost their homes,   Their dreams were set on fire,    It was like they were punished for living,    Some were burned with it, others ran away                                                                             ...

  Now the snakes are out of hell, Falling for the quote, Theres a dead smell, Bleeding wounds, like open scars. Each drop of blood carves its own path, Now the snakes are out of hell, It's hard to tell what's in The Well, You can hear the scream of death, In the end, Maybe it's all in my head. By Prerna Diwan

                                                     I know the wounds aren't fresh,                              but fresh enough to bleed them again,                              it's hard to focus on myself,                                       when I lost my best buddy to a haven                                 falling in delusion to regain,                                    I still cry for me to be glad,           ...

 I’ve waited long,  much more than you could say, For death to come and kiss me away. To strangle me tight, And carry me far from the light. I’ve waited long ,  much more than you could say, But death omits me, day by day. His cold embrace, his chilling breath, Brings hope even in the face of death.

  I am sitting in the dark room, Just so I can be invisible, The silent echoes of unbelievable gloom,  I wish I could escape, But the pain is invincible, A relentless storm I cannot outrun, So I let it consume me, Even when I choose to be alone. I am sitting in the dark room, Haunted by thoughts of PEOPLE, People who teeter on the edge of doom, Their lives are tangled in webs of trouble, I see their silent cries, Feel their unspoken fears, And I wish I could save them, But how can I? When I, too, am drowning in the same darkness.  I am sitting in the darkroom Just so I can feel free, Forget about the walls closing in,  Maybe that's a good relief; At least It stops me from jumping off the cliff.

  Poetry sounds so magical, More magical than love itself, It's crazy how it keeps me alive, Even when the monster has arrive, Even when life sounds tragical. I love how  beautifully it's intended to be, how divinely it is meant to be. - PRERNA DIWAN

 I wrote a million desperate letters,   screaming my love for you, and how badly I am lost in... there's no explanation for my insanity, but you don't even have a clue. that I am, in love tragady. waiting for you, to magically come to me, and tell me you feel it too... tell me that you miss me too... tell me that I wasn't the first, that I am not alone covered in cigarette dust. - Prerna Diwan

Here I am,  Back where I left it off,  Sitting under the tree.  Erasing my tears,  Wishing it to be free.  Thinking, where I went wrong.  Am I really that strong?  Watching these trees move,  I am begging for the peace to prove.  Do I really exist?  In this world of lies,  Have I fake kissed?  Where all these were just some trys.  In the end they were all proved fake,  Or maybe I just realized it's a little late.     By Prerna Diwan. 

 Millions of beautiful words came out from a girl who never intended to write. She just wanted to be heard. Somehow her beautiful words were finally heard by the paper napkins in the restaurants, or the notes in their phone. She didn't even know she could write in a poetic way. Until she shows it out to their friends and then her family. She thought their friends were just being nice so she kept it to herself. Until people started relating to whatever she writes. It made her nothing but happy. It was like a warm feeling that indicates that she's not alone to feel all those feelings. People liked reading whatever she wrote, that's what they say. But somewhere she thinks she can't write something so good for people to like it. It's impossible for that to be true. This thought was eating her up. whenever she picked her pen to write, her hands started shaking. Soon she was scared to even write down her own feelings, scared of those being true. Until the part people star...

 You left me all alone,  In the world of haunted doors,  It's all a tragedy,  But it's fine when I know you're happy all along.  Filling the broken heart It's gonna be hard But I know you're gonna be there with us,  It's just a death card.  But I always wanted you to know that I love you.  Not more than mom but enough that,  you could be proud of me.                         - Prerna Diwan

  A Million words were said, A Million scenarios were made, In just a few moments, I knew what he wanted, I knew where he was laid, It wasn't the best,   Neither is the worst. still, I felt the emptiness, flowing through my veins. tell me it's all  fake,   tell me it will go away, maybe that's the reason it is hard to stay awake. - BY PRERNA DIWAN

The poem contains a million words,  But I still manage to relate to every single one,  It's weird how words can hurt,  It's weird how words can be turned,  Twisted in the tragedy to hate someone It hurts how love is kept a secret,  How badly it's been treated How slowly it's been whispered  How often it's been forgotten,  Still desired by millions,  But received by none....                                         - PRERNA DIWAN

 The time has stopped,  The voices have risen,   The darkness has traded,  The doors of love are shut down.  Million likes are stated for this tragedy,  It's weird how people like me.  Sometimes I wonder why?  Sometimes I just wanna cry.  Roaming in these haunted aisles.  feels like Falling in love all over again.  In love with these monsters running through my veins,  Why do I still feel this haunted pain?  Why I still wanna cry,  Why I love this rain in the dark,  Shattering my heart in a million Pieces.  isn't it supposed to be this hard?                                             - PRERNA DIWAN