Gloomy Poems
The Mirror Cracked
by Ayatullah Nurjati
The cracked mirror in the corner of the room holds the image of a gloomy face. Small shards that bounce faintly, like memories that are hard to escape.
Every crack holds a story, about a wound that is slowly healing. There are tears trapped there, in silence that swallows all sound. In a mirror that is no longer intact, you reflect your fragile self.
But in every broken piece of you that is opened, there is strength in accepting the wound.
You taught me the meaning of sincerity, in your cracks that don't seek perfection. Because life is not about looking beautiful, but accepting cracks as part of grace.
Untitled #40
by Shreyansh Jain
Sometimes I sleep, wishing there won’t be a morning,
That the drapes on my window stay shut,
Just like my heart stays shut now.
I close my eyes, seeing nothing but dark,
Begging the dark to sing me a lullaby,
To soothe and comfort me,
For I might not open my eyes again,
For the dark might have to become my home.
......
The Mirror Cracked
by Ayatullah Nurjati
The cracked mirror in the corner of the room holds the image of a gloomy face. Small shards that bounce faintly, like memories that are hard to escape.
Every crack holds a story, about a wound that is slowly healing. There are tears trapped there, in silence that swallows all sound. In a mirror that is no longer intact, you reflect your fragile self.
But in every broken piece of you that is opened, there is strength in accepting the wound.
You taught me the meaning of sincerity, in your cracks that don't seek perfection. Because life is not about looking beautiful, but accepting cracks as part of grace.
Untitled #40
by Shreyansh Jain
Sometimes I sleep, wishing there won’t be a morning,
That the drapes on my window stay shut,
Just like my heart stays shut now.
I close my eyes, seeing nothing but dark,
Begging the dark to sing me a lullaby,
To soothe and comfort me,
For I might not open my eyes again,
For the dark might have to become my home.
......
