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Shilpa Priya Dash

Unsplash SHE IS HER She is herself— Neither fake nor fully real, Not like the pain she carries deep, Not like the stain she hides in the creep. She may not be precious, But she is not cheap, And the one within her is no cheat. She cries aloud, Her innocence shatters, While the one inside Searches for the true her. And as the gloomy sky drifts by, She is no more. Yet if you dare to call her a *WHORE Then truth be told— You never loved her before. ©Shilpa Priya Dash #she is her

#She is her

Schizology

She was She was his poetry even before he Ever began to write any poems His first thought when he woke up His last thought before sleeping The first woman that gave him comfort The last woman that made him happy The first woman to give him a child The last woman he shared secrets to The first woman to make his jaw drop The last woman that he would cherish ©Schizology She was #She #brokenheart #poem✍🧡🧡💛 sad poetry poetry in english poetry poetry lovers

She was #She #brokenheart poem✍🧡🧡💛 sad poetry poetry in english poetry poetry lovers

She was

She was his poetry even before he
Ever began to write any poems

His first thought when he woke up
His last thought before sleeping

The first woman that gave him comfort
The last woman that made him happy

The first woman to give him a child
The last woman he shared secrets to

The first woman to make his jaw drop
The last woman that he would cherish

©Schizology She was

#She #brokenheart #poem✍🧡🧡💛 sad poetry poetry in english poetry poetry lovers

Kiran Suman

White dil ne ye kha tumse ki tum hamre ho ©Kiran Suman #Thinking tumre pice kya he,

#Thinking tumre pice kya he,

Monika Vimal

Unsplash No One Cares About Me" “All day long,” she whispers softly, “No one cares about me…” Her words echo in the quiet house, Heavy with years of sacrifice. She gave away her children’s childhood, Trading laughter for long hours, Dreams for endless responsibilities. She barely had time to hold them close. Now, the years have passed. Her job is done, but not her burdens. Day by day, she picks up every piece— Sweeping, mending, cooking, Tending to her grandson with tired hands. And yet, no one sees. No one stops to say, "Thank you for all you've done." The weight of invisibility breaks her spirit. She aches not for riches or grandeur, But for a single kind word, A fleeting acknowledgment of her worth, A simple reminder that she is loved. Her heart, exhausted, Longs for tenderness, For someone to say, "Rest now—you’ve done enough." But instead, silence greets her. And all she wants, All she has ever wanted, Is just a little warmth From the ones she sacrificed everything for. ©Monika Vimal #Life #she

Life #She