Different Kind Of Struggle

Nightmares have become consistent,
Fights are my routine,
Disappointment is my emotion,
Exhausted, my body claims,
And yet I have gone beyond the breaking point.

Each day, I become quieter,
My confidence is all time low,
Failure is what my situation shows,
And yet, I have a hope of better tomorrow.

The cries have become muffled,
My eyes speak another story,
Restrained is my spirit,
Break free, my soul claims,
And yet, I am going on through the motions.

The highs are now my lows,
Don’t give a fuck is what I say,
Pain is now my best friend,
Hypocrite is what I see,
And yet, I am fighting for myself.
And yet, I am fighting for myself.


Things That I Wish My Heart To Understand. 

Dear Heart,

Don’t jump on seeing another soul. I know it resembles a lot like you but hold your stomping beats and let the brain focus for once. 

I know it’s been years since you yearned and jumped in joy or blushed at the thought of the other but harness your desire. 

I don’t want you to proclaim any affection for once. Brain very well knows the pain you grow through when you are injured. 

The nights are tough and the logic seems to sleep but I want you to remember one line that brain keeps on repeating. ‘Action speaks louder than words’ 

The annihilation won’t be long if you succumb so easily. Be a wolf. Don’t give in easily. Let the other show you first. Reign your swooning because it won’t be long before you declare the other as your procession. 

Oh heart, it’s simply foolish to let yourself wander in this world. Patience, dear. 

– Hema Sanghavi 

Poet’s week

I use Instagram daily, no no; not to share my pictures daily. ( That would be self obsessed right?)
I use it to read the works of the poets of Instagram. These people are from different regions and one thing that bonds them is poetry. It’s raw and relatable.
These aren’t the big big poetry or something that has rhyming scheme or meter. They are really small and simple which speaks emotions. Some use Imagism or symbolism… I won’t get into the analysis of poem, although I really wish I could do it for my assignments.
So, this week is dedicated to them.
Most of them have their books out.
I will surely add the links of their books and their account too.
The poets are :
Christopher Poindexter
Zachry K Douglas
Leo Christopher
Kat Savage
Marisa Crane
Beau Taplin
R. M. Drake
J. Raymond ( I can’t leave him!)

Have awesome day!
Stay tuned for the poetry week
– Hema Sanghavi

Written by Hema Sanghavi.

Random thoughts

A short haul seems like the carriage has become stagnant,
The horses have been misled,
They miss the gentle caress, and small talks,
Those eyes in which they shared talks,
The path seems wavery,
Less troden,
The world has been to verify the same path,
Greens are covered with snow,
The blood trickling in the corner,
The deforestation leads to murder,
And the white pale is red

Written by HemaSanghavi. Contact for any work.

Beau Taplin – The Change


Beautiful writer! He is on tumblr, Instagram! Check his works!

Losing you changed me. I have been quiet, and quick tempered. And when I am shown concern I m blunt or allusive. I avoid my friends. Drink too much. And  I don’t recall when I last felt moved by someone. I lost you. That I understood. I just didn’t think I would lose me too.

Written by HemaSanghavi. Contact for any work.


The shine which we look for,
The beats which we want to be beat for,
The smile which changes the soul,
The soul which we search for,
The passion that clicks,
The silence which matters,
The Touch of the air changes the vibes,
You seemed to do just fine
For me you are soil,wind,water and my fire.

Written by HemaSanghavi. Contact for any work.

You are Here

The pumping increased,
The beating shivered,
Sounding like drums on high,
Peacock dancing,
Jovial smile,
Empirical it felt.
The emptiness revealed wholeness,
Souls matched again,
The moment ;
An everlasting Kodak moment,
You came.
You are here.

The Past

Sitting by the window sill,
Contemplating how past comes back to haunt,
To rejuvenate the wound,
Just like the way Poison feels Happy on someone’s death,
The pain slowly sweeps through the veins into the blood,
Pumping into the heart,
Ever so slowly de coding the cells,
And contaminating the muscle,
Until Finally it stops
-Hema Sanghavi