Scribbling Inner Voice (SIV)

Scribbling Inner Voice (SIV) is a grand community founded by अंदर की आवाज़ . Both the communities are founded by Parth Mittal . So we want you to listen our poetries , ghazal and shayri . Do support us and spread us



About Angarika : Angarika, a blossoming Writer- Essayist- Poetess from North India. Is an avid reader and artist. An introvert at heart, likes to showcase her feelings through writeups and poetries. Has a write-up account on Instagram- @deep_scribblings. Has conducted various contents and herself been a part of open mics. She likes prompts and challenges. Has attempted various genres of writings and is always curious to learn more. She believes- 'Verses touch souls'. And that is what her writing account is all about.

The Death Of Rose :

I was a beautiful rose blooming in the yard of thorns, blossoming with petals,

My tender skin was adorned with the neon freckles shining and not fatal,

I was still sprouting and my roots were enriched with everyone’s love,

Still not aware of the doomsday awaiting my presence from its hell suburb.

My irrigated veins were drenched with your blood as I remember my history,

I had no clue as what was happening as my womanhood was still a mystery,

You touched me with your blistered fingers as I was being choked to death,

And those monsters were laughing as if everything was so making sense.

I gagged as I was anaesthetized, the chloroform seeping in the skin so deep,

All I knew as I woke up was that I was bleeding profusely with your act so cheap,

You are an inhuman, demon in disguise, the wrath I had to go through made me die,

With hemorrhagic vagina and hands, I wrote this letter to make everyone realize.

That I feel so disgusted and ashamed to be born in the era of such brutality,

Wasn’t I innocent enough, a twelve year old me had to face such infidelity,

Yes, I couldn’t face my parents because I was impure, degraded and blemished,

My eyes that once used to see dreams, then faced the cruelty of those beasts.

Each letter was inked with the pain that I endured as I was being harassed,

It didn’t matter to them if I was a still a girl and was being harshly slapped,

Then that bleeding letter of mine could speak my thoughts that I couldn’t say,

And let those sadists die so ruthless that they had to invite their own death.


IG ID:- @deep_scribblings