Writers world
前往频道在 Telegram
This channel is created to publish talent from anywhere. Anyone who want to join our community or have their material featured here is my link @Writerswrldbot
显示更多📈 Telegram 频道 Writers world 的分析概览
频道 Writers world (@writerswrld) 英语 语言赛道中的 是活跃参与者。目前社区聚集了 14 365 名订阅者,在 书籍 类别中位列第 2 609,并在 印度 地区排名第 27 630 位。
📊 受众指标与增长动态
自 невідомо 创建以来,项目保持高速增长,吸引了 14 365 名订阅者。
根据 30 九月, 2026 的最新数据,频道保持稳定运转。过去 30 天订阅人数变化为 -135,过去 24 小时变化为 0,整体触达仍然可观。
- 认证状态: 未认证
- 互动率 (ER): 平均受众互动率为 10.42%。内容发布后 24 小时内通常能获得 N/A% 的反应,占订阅者总量。
- 帖子覆盖: 每篇帖子平均可获得 0 次浏览,首日通常累积 0 次浏览。
- 互动与反馈: 受众积极参与,单帖平均反应数为 0。
📝 描述与内容策略
作者将该频道定位为表达主观观点的平台:
“This channel is created to publish talent from anywhere.
Anyone who want to join our community or have their material featured here is my link @Writerswrldbot”
凭借高频更新(最新数据采集于 01 十月, 2026),频道始终保持新鲜度与高覆盖。分析显示受众积极互动,使其成为 书籍 类别中的关键影响点。
14 365
订阅者
无数据24 小时
-277 天
-13530 天
帖子存档
14 365
Maybe it was in choosing someone who had seen every version of you and still wanted to be there when everything simmered down and was boring. Maybe it was in choosing someone who had choose you in the process of choosing themselves!
# yemirok
14 365
I would have been mad crazy if I did love ya
A blessing from above
You are the reason u have hope in love 💕
14 365
Repost from N/a
It wasn’t just that he left...it was how he walked away carrying the version of her that believed people never lie with love...
14 365
Repost from N/a
All of a sudden I see your name somewhere and all I wanna do is scream at this world, hate everyone and everything. I want to rebel against waves of life I want to choke my heart I want to squeeze you out of my soul just so I could be normal again and not have that gutting feeling inside my heart.
Oh love how cruel you are
#J.z
14 365
Repost from N/a
All of a sudden I see your name somewhere and all I wanna do is scream at this world, hate everyone and everything. I want to rebel against waves of life I want to choke my heart I want to squeeze you out of my soul just so I could be normal again and not have that gutting feeling inside my heart.
Oh love how cruel you are
14 365
The kiss drowned my thought
The pleasure blinded my sight
The touch numbed the pain
Hot blood coursing through my vien
Not as toxic
Just a way to forget and escape the reality thats hectic
14 365
The kiss drowned my thought
The pleasure blinded my sight
The touch numbed the pain
Hot blood coursing through my vien
Not as toxic
Just a way to forget and escape the reality thats hectic
14 365
You, dear one, are a beautiful canvas with a rotting soul.
That is why you crave what you can not see.
That is why you dig beyond your realm.
And it is also why you have plasters taped on all your mirrors.
14 365
Repost from N/a
Out of Love ❤️📜
When the darkness arrive, and you are all alone.
Turned into a couple.
It's your time to reshape, the darkness is there for you.
The streets are quiet and the noise is gone
Ya feel a deep void in your brains, Ya want to fill that void.
Instead of thinking deep and going beyond the dimensions.
You open tick tock/ Instagram.
Guess what will fill the void?
People's thoughts, based on their own personal experience.
You take all that nonsense and fill the void with it.
Be it, negative garbage or positive things...
But at the end of the day, it's you and the garbage you consumed, instead of shaping your own way.
life is a continuous journey of learning and growth. None of us have it all figured out.
Let your own experience give you, the answers...
Not social media, for it, is just content.14 365
"The Worst Kind of Shadows"
The worst kind of feelings
are the ones you can’t carve into stone,
can’t drown in the river,
or set aflame in the yard.
They linger—
like the ghost of a touch
on skin that no longer remembers warmth,
like a song half-remembered,
hummed wrong in the dark.
You wear them like a coat
stitched from unanswered questions,
each thread a *why* that knots itself tighter
with every breath.
And the cruelest part?
They don’t even rage.
They don’t scream, or break things,
or leave bruises you can point to and say:
*Here. This is where it hurts.*
No—
they just sit inside your ribs,
quiet as a stopped clock,
heavy as a closed door,
whispering:
*You can’t fix what was never yours to hold.*
#jemil
@chaosvil
14 365
Repost from Inside My Dark Soul 👣
Everyone's rushing somewhere. I’m just trying to remember where I lost myself.
14 365
"Time Heals"
*What a lie,*
a thief’s promise, soft as rot—
whispering *wait, just wait,*
while the wound forgets
how to close.
There is no end,
only the slow gnaw of absence,
a clock with no hands,
a sky with no dawn.
Every breath is her name,
every silence her echo.
I am a ghost
haunted by the living.
Time does not heal—
it merely teaches the bones
how to ache
without breaking.
(But oh, how they bend.)
@chaosvill
14 365
Pain changes people, it makes them trust less, overthink more, & shut people out.
14 365
I thought about you last night
but instead of crying or feeling upset
there was this drizzle of peace
that began to hit the surface of my soul
I made it
without you . . .
I’m much happier
here without you . . .
@chaosvil
14 365
Some of us are carved from stone, not flesh. Our hearts are not beating things but hollow caverns where love should reside—echoing, empty. We are the ones who stand at the edges of affection, watching others melt into each other like wax under a flame, while we remain cold, untouched.
We try. Oh, how we try. We mimic the motions—hands held, lips pressed, whispered words that taste like rust on our tongues. We stitch ourselves into the shapes of lovers, but the threads unravel, always. There is something missing, something fundamental, like a god forgot to mold that part of us before setting us loose into the world.
Perhaps we were never meant for love. Perhaps love is a language we were never taught, a song our throats cannot shape. We press our palms to chests, waiting for a spark that never comes. We tell ourselves: *Maybe this time. Maybe this one will be different.* But the truth is, some wounds are not wounds at all—they are absences. Some of us were born without the thing that makes love stick.
And so we wander, half-people, ghosts in the lives of those who try to love us. We break them without meaning to. We leave fingerprints on their skin, not bruises, but the faintest marks of someone who was never really there.
We do not love.
We only pretend.
And the tragedy is—
we are almost convincing.
And by some of us I meant me and you ofc.
#jemil
