A macro lens and the depth of emotions. (World Photography Day)

If a year ago you’d asked me what camera I used, I’d say, my front camera. Now if you were to ask me I’d say a camera. It’s a beautiful thing, photography, for you need not be an artist to share what you find beautiful in this world. You needn’t be a writer, to share the perfect blue of the skies. You needn’t even be a singer to speak of how the wind whistles through the trees.

It’s world photography day today, and I find no better day than this to show what has kept me away from rhyming schemes. It’s amazing, even crazy that I am constantly learning and evolving and truly enjoying this process.

What is also weird is the fact that I’ve started to find beauty in everything, from how the sun shines through the trees, to how the walls have the most gorgeous of textures. I’ve started noticing people better, emotions better, and in short become a better person.

Here’s what I’ll leave you with, a collection of pictures taken by me. I’d appreciate if you gave credit, if you were to share it. :)

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An explanation, an apology letter, a rant.

Being seventeen is not easy,
Difficult an understatement.
The constant need to have a perfect persona,
For someone not even worth it.

To study more than to sleep,
To spend every living moment multitasking
To actually having to make time,
To chit chat with family

I hate seventeen,
I detest it.
I’d rather be two or even four,
Bundled in the cradle of innocence.

While I may be seventeen,
In a society that is so judging.
I constantly yearn to break free,
From the social shackles of society.

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A dysfunctional relationship. ( exam series)


It’s like a relationship.
A very dysfunctional one at that.
You don’t get me, I don’t get you.

Still we slowly try to amend our differences.
I by reading you and learning.
You by being well you
Awkwardly uncooperative
Very distant.
And hiding secrets I don’t know
But yet we work together hand in hand.
To save our relationship from the failure.
You’ll never understand me l I’ll never understand you
Eleven years we’ve worked
At finding out the truth.
We shall work a couple of years more.
And maybe our efforts will bear fruit.

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Wounded Warrior. (Exam series)

Because I’ve been showing more interest in writing poetry than theories of psychology and what not I have decided to make this a series, What will I use the random snapchats of my books for otherwise?

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I’m a bruised up warrior,

This battle has hit me hard.

From all directions,

And I’m just ripped apart.

But I face you,

Another day.

With my headache,

And my tortured brain.

Fight against you with my green tea,

And my highlighters aplenty.

While you try to attack me,

With definitions and theories.

This isn’t just a exam,

This is world war three.

Between you and me books,

Consider me hooked.

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An ode to exams. (Exam Series)

In the midst of studying for my finals, I penned down this piece

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26 letters, as familiar as can be,

Come together to form something absurd.

Confuse me,

Terrorise me,

Make me rethink my decisions.

A couple of pages 200 or so,

Filled with the language I think I know.

Then why is it so confusing,

Mind changing,


As I let you suck my soul,

Mind and body whole.

Dying slowly in front of you,

Books I love, but not you.

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For valentines 2015

Your love was a lie,
So were your words.
So many scars you left,
On my mind and soul.

I’ll forever remember,
You as not the one to run.
But the one to do something,
For the sake of anything but fun.

And as I sit here I realise,
You never were the man for me.
Maybe a man is not who I want,
Maybe it’s girls for me.

And sometimes it hits me,
Being alone is what I want.
Away from love and the likes,
Away from the truth of it all.

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This is most probably the darkest poem I’ve ever written.

Hollow hearts,

Hollow heads,

Hollowed brains,

Filled with the death.

Devoid of love,

Devoid of thought,

Devoid of actions,

They turn to rot.

Empty stomachs,

Living on air,

As sad as it gets,

It’s only our minds that have to be fed

Dying while living,

Living while dead,

This is life baby,

A few days and we’re dead.

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It’s 11:51, and I’m guessing I can’t procastinate anymore. I have no clue what to write about today. It’s too confusing. So much that I’ll let be a blank space

And Happy Birthday T. Swift, To breaking hearts and records and well, good use of red lipstick.
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So, why didn’t i post yesterday? well because i slept off and I knew what exactly i wanted to post. This. The twelve days of Christmas with who?, well my favorite author. YAY!

To see previous posts,

Day 21

Day 20

Why my favorite sort of pot is potter. Harry potter.

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English is beautiful

wpid-screenshot_2014-12-11-20-22-24-1.pngI have an English UT tommorow  (yes I studied) and a good friend sent this picture on a group in reference to other friends. You know people who go on to tumblr for cool lines and rebuttals, They should open their English textbook.

For yesterdays post, Day 21

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