https://t.me/Cuz_Knowledge

She gave her heart, her soul, her all,
Yet he stood blind, behind a wall.
Each tear she shed, a silent plea,
A love too vast for him to see.

Her laughter dimmed, her light grew small,
As love consumed, began to fall.
She begged, she broke, she stayed, she tried,
But slowly, her spirit died.

Now she walks with wounds unseen,
A heart once pure, now torn between,
The hope of love, the fear of pain,
A fragile dance in endless rain.

Yet still she prays, not for herself,
But for his joy, his inner wealth.
A wish for him, a love anew,
With someone who could love him too.

In her sorrow, she finds release,
A quiet strength, a fragile peace.
For though her story's stained with tears,
Her heart survives through all her fears.

I won't be posting anything because of exams. Hope you all will understand

And I was the mediator, the one in the middle,
Listening to both sides, yet unheard and invisible.
Never did anyone turn to listen to me,
I can't lean on a soul, for they both depend on me.

I suffered from both ends of the divide,
But for them, I’m just a silent guide.
They wouldn’t even notice my despair,
And I carry this weight alone, beyond compare.

The walls may crumble, and bridges fall,
But this unbroken sorrow will forever stand tall.

The one who gave others a shoulder to lean,
Left with none to cry on, unseen.
I wished to be understood, to be felt,
But I buried those feelings, so deeply held.

I won’t tell you,
Why should I?
Would it matter at all
If I let these words fall?
Would you be mine
If I told you,
You’re the rhyme
That held my scattered lines?

You never knew you were my home,
My verse, my every breath, my own.
But in time, you slipped away,
And now, I breathe every day all alone.

I carry pieces left behind,
Empty echoes in my mind.
The warmth we shared has turned to cold,
In silence now, the story’s told.

You walked away without a sound,
Left me lost, nowhere bound.
I won’t tell ,
And why should i ?
Because in the end ,
Even if i tell,
You probably wont care.

Unspoken truths

The one unsaid letter,
the words that could have
saved our friendship.
But you were tangled,
lost in your own thoughts,
your soul blinded
by your own delusions.

And I was left with
a suppressed rage,
and a sensitive heart,
a silent storm waiting
to be unleashed.

Surely, I meant well,
though I never wished
to hurt someone intentionally.
Yet, I am selfish,
a hypocrite to my own morals
when it comes to my future.

It takes courage,
a lot more than rage.
It takes courage
to burn the things you meant to say,
but left unsaid.

On the pages,
on the streets of the night,
that were silent and still.

To burn the words of admiration
is to burn your soul,
to abandon your sail.

But even ashes tell a story,
of dreams scorched in fire’s glory.
Of the fear and the fight,
of the day overtaken by night.

In the quiet, where flames have died,
the truth lingers—undeniable, implied.
It takes courage to walk away
from the echoes of words you cannot say.

And as the smoke fades into air,
you find yourself standing there,
alone, perhaps, but unafraid,
no longer bound by the things you never said.

She was the poem I could never quite capture in words. Every line I tried to craft felt empty compared to the way she filled a room, the way her laughter danced on the edges of my thoughts. How do you write down the way her eyes catch the light, or the way her presence feels like the missing verse of every love song?

She was everything I couldn’t put into ink alive in ways no page could hold, beautiful in ways no rhyme could contain. Every time I tried, the words fell short, like they were chasing a dream just beyond their reach. Because she wasn’t meant for paper, she was meant for living, breathing, loving.

And me? I was the fool with a pen, trying to write a love too big for a page.

The cuckoo singing of songs of sadness,
Yet everyone heard it as happiness.

Maybe she wasn't happy at all,
And was screaming for help.

The more trauma she felt,
The more sweetness came in her voice.

The world perceived her wrongly
She wasn’t singing in joy,
But in the melancholy of her thoughts.

What a curse for her it would be,
She was screaming,
Begging on her knees to be heard,
To be understood,
But the world saw her as a melodic.