Backyard

The Golden Apple They said it was fortune, shining in gold, a promise the hungry were taught to behold. But when I bit it, it tasted of rust— sweet on the tongue, bitter with trust. Everyone’s chasing that gilded lie, the apple that rots but refuses to die. And I wonder, in this orchard of greed— do we grow the fruit, or does it grow the need?

how cigarettes be looking at you when you are having a bad day

It's been a lot But never enough

Are you sad, or simply tired— tired of carrying the same name in a world that keeps forgetting faces? Maybe it isn’t sorrow, maybe it’s just the weight of staying awake in a life that hums like an old machine— too loud to rest, too slow to break. I’m not broken, not yet. Just a candle that’s learned the art of burning quietly, of smiling without catching fire. Once, I chased joy like a pilgrim chasing light through stained glass— now I just sit by the window and watch dust float where sunlight used to dance. No, I’m not sad. I’m only tired— of being strong, of being seen, of being everything that feels human but never quite alive. — A soul yet to find its purpose.

we are all in the gutter, but some of us are staring at our phones. the tragedy isn't that we've fallen, it's that we've made the gutter comfortable.

I’m a library of strangers, a mosaic of ghosts, pretending to be whole.

The night was drunk on silence, we whispered secrets to the wind, and the trees leaned closer, eavesdropping. The river tried to steal our reflection, but the sky shattered it with ripples of thunder. We laughed too loud, and the mountains frowned in their sleep. I touched your hand, and the fireflies mistook it for dawn. The night swallowed us whole, yet the stars kept gossiping anyway.

yet fear the flood.

.

The world felt too dull, until I cleansed my eyes

Lobhu-all

Less then 10% votes wuahahahahahahahahaha

The butterfly lives only a fortnight, yet in that brief borrowed breath, it teaches us how to smile— scattering laughter like confetti of wings, while never once tasting its own joy. It is the friend who heals everyone’s wounds but dies unheard, a poet who burns for others’ light yet walks forever in his own shadow. — butterfly by master...

..../Idk how to react but yeah left ventricle saying thanks

Do I turn on reaction or comments?

‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ I am not sure if I should say this or not. But I think you should allow reactions on your channel. I mean how would you know if people are engaged in reading your work or not. If not many then only one heart reaction would be helpful. And then you'll kno" w that your channel isn't dead, it's just you've closed your ears to their applause. And as for me, I really love your content. I read your work to get ideas, new words and to get out of writer's block. And subscribers are just numbers, most of them leave one day. All you can do is to love what you write. Best of luck.