# #betrayal #life #forgiveness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness

The Stories in my Head

Folder: 
Published
I haven’t written in awhile…. this is a pretty rough draft but thought I would share it. 
 
Stories in My Head
Copyright SDM 7/27/25
 
I used to write stories in my head. I would get lost in them while doing dishes or cleaning house or even on a trail ride on my horse. It was as if the voices in my head were telling me of the great woman that they wanted me to be. In these stories I’d go on great adventures and make even greater accomplishments. The stories carried me far away into my wildest dreams. I was wild and feral chasing rainbows and wsterfalls, running in the wind and the mountains ywith destiny.
 
Somewhere along the way those voices grew silent. Abandoned by me, as I followed new paths that I thought would take me where I wanted to be. I like to think in these stories it was a wolf inside of me, barring her teeth and growling at any adversary who crossed my path. Maybe it was my inner lioness, proudly displaying her strength telling me how great I would be. 
 
But I abandoned them…. I abandoned me.  I replaced us with new dreams, just to watch my soul be crushed and scattered in the breeze. While those who I thought I loved and would stay forever slipped away like thieves in the night taking pieces of me with them, while leaving me to tend to ashes of the fire I once had.  
 
In the cold silence In my head, I imagine that it’s my Phoenix resting quietly, rebuilding her strength, gathering the embers left from the ashes of my soul, giving life back to our wolf and lioness. Her quiet hope that they will all rise from the ashes of the pieces of me that have been left behind, to once again rise to be the woman they once dreamed me to be. I owe it to them, I owe it to me…. to not only let these voices once again weave stories in my head but to lead me back to the woman we wanted me to be.
 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just trying to get back to me, and letting my inner story tellers take reign again. It's a very rough draft. 

I Used To Feel

I just want to be someone, that someone wants.

 

But your just another, that haunts my heart

 

I really look stupid, and I know its dumb, but I sit here, lucid, pretending I'm not numb. 

 

The mask slips, yeah the hurt inflicts, scars start to build up, but I fake the smile. Yeah, I do it because it's the only thing I've been able to hold up in a long, long while

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Been a long time since I've wrote this dark. Years, but it never died, just caged I think. Anyway enjoy

Are you Mine?

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The door to reach god
was the tomb way. It was closed.
Timeless you have to burn.

No morning song will
be loud. You have to touch the
shadows and kiss the footprints of death.

It was a bottomless
thought to repeat the hurts of tall
humans. Have you seen one foot entrance?

Pulverization

Folder: 
Satish Verma

To accept the uncertainty
was a mortal pain. Between life and death
there was a neutral god.

Who exactly said, it was
imminent. You have to know yourself.
Who tells what, only blood will freeze.

Everyday one meets death
to pay back the debt of living
while taking breath under the burning moon.

A Sage Thinks

Folder: 
Satish Verma

You react to see the
delusion. I map your face on the fire.
After a kill would you wait for the end time?

No one gambles nowadays.
How do you walk on the sand painting, so
no one rises from the dead body?

I put on my palm a slice of
future to read the god's command. Some
one laughs at my back and shouts, you are the god.

Cunning

Embroider maker,

Eccentric patterns.

Repeating.

Yin Yang.

Never the same,

Trickster.

Restless 

Soo restless.

Skillful,

Cunning Embroider Maker.

Meticulous Gothics

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Between lie and truth, let
me celebrate my mindset after killing my
consciousness, I am going to become a vagabond.

The artless love freaks out.
There was always a full stop after the
moon's death. Do you hear the weird thing?

History walks again on the sun path.
Between blood and bones of faith, war begins.
The myth will not explain the unexplained.

Actually Paramore It Ain’t fun

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My beloved dog died, and i cannot sleep without her. So i thought I'd share. here is to sleeping alone.