[sovietnam]

[muhtesemz]

رنګونه ټول د جهان بد شو په ما

خپل کور په ما دوزخ شو بیا

ستا هیرول هم ګران دي

زان صبرول هم گران دي

زره مي اوس ارمان نه کئ

خدای ته اوس فریاد نه کئ

يو دعا په لاسونو اوچتی

چی مور راته ملاؤ کی بیا

the beauty of the world is a lie

when I lost my heaven I can tell why

losing her was hard,

living with this truth is hard

the heart doesn't desires now

It never ask the Lord why or how?

only a prayer I raise in hands,

to reunite me with her again.

ګلونه

This is crazy beautiful. Thanks a lot for sharing. Who's the writer?

[guloona]

thank you for loving this! btw its not urdu its pashto.🤍 and the writer is me.

[where-is-my-insanity]

My heart screams GRIEF GRIEF GRIEF. I want to curl into a ball and SOB. I can't help but let a few tears out and quickly wipe them so no one sees. How can I explain that seeing that clock her favourite brother got her tears my heart bit by bit. That emptying out the rooms feels like emptying out the place that knew you last, when you were healthy and whole. How do I explain that this new beginning means moving forward without you. That while everyone celebrates, I secretly mourn you. How can I let go? How can I forgot?

Come back and tell me how to live. Come back and live. Just come back. Please

[myislamicmuseum]

Hope this brings you as much peace as it brings me

[areebianights-deactivated202504]

Everybody has a few cracks inside them. Everyone's life has potholes and dents.

But it feels like my cracks are widening every day. They are being pulled at, they're being chiseled.

I'm taking it upon myself to heal these cracks, but I'm not far from those who see them and still choose to pull me apart, crack by crack. As if there wasn't already a flood inside me, pushing at the walls of my body. As if this flood wasn't deepening these cracks from the inside.

Sometimes I wish they'd do the destruction drastically, that all of the flood would come out at once. So they'd experience the taste of drowning in a flood. So they wouldn't disregard it because only some of it was seeping out.

Sometimes I wish that I wasn't made of stone, but of glass. So that one blow would shatter my whole existence. So that the living parts of me wouldn't have to mourn those that died.

Strength is destructive sometimes. It makes you keep going.

Sometimes being strong is sabotage.

Sometimes you are just supposed to scream and cry and bang your fists and kick your legs while sitting on your room floor.

[ramblebramblepoetry]

What are we fighting for? What will be left to us

When all is reduced to ash and dust?

[elizabethsinclair]

love elizabeth s.

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Jennifer S. Cheng, So We Must Meet Apart

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: my fist has always been clenched around the handle of an invisible suitcase. / i am always ready to leave. / there is not a single room in this world where i belong.]

[quotespile]

“As time goes on, you’ll understand. What lasts, lasts; what doesn’t, doesn’t. Time solves most things. And what time can’t solve, you have to solve yourself.”

— Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

[intothedreamverse]

White Nights, Fyodor Dostoevsky

[typewriter-worries]

[ Text ID: My god, a moment of bliss. Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime? ]

[quotemadness]

Your absolute best won’t be good enough for the wrong person. At your worst, you’ll still be worth it to the right person. Remember that.

Unknown

[where-is-my-insanity]

I hate coming here because it feels like coming home, but you're not here and this isn't my home anymore.

[zegalba]

Alpine lotus leaf flower

[weltenwellen]

May Sarton, "Of Grief", Selected Poems

[weltenwellen]

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude