Novel & Cerita Poetry About Innocence

As a kid , little Aarunya had many dreams, her notebooks filled with to do bucket lists in future and her eyes sparked with fairytales. Kids indeed are innocent. Unaware of the cruel world of adults all they think about life joy and games, happiness and friends but as soon as they grow up the innocence of childhood is lost, corrupting their once pure hearts into tainted blocks of greed, lust, jealousy, hurt and darkness which surrounds the light around them making those innocent little ones into creatures of dark. Some succumb into the callignous abyss of evil while some remain the same, their hearts untainted and their soul still divine, deprived of greed and the dark around them.

Similarly, more than your slap, your words hurt me, your mistrust didn’t hurt but your accusation hurt. ‘After the night between us, when I was drowning in guilt thinking I spoiled your life I was dying each passing day when I couldn’t find you and seek an apology from you, and my guilt crosses it all limits that I left my entire old life behind.’ ‘When I saw first time on the road and saw your pure eyes, I felt pity for you. After bringing you home, I have used all possible ways to search for your family and actual identity, though my act was out of humanity, again it crossed all its limits.’

It’s glowing light gently caresses her face , her moonlight kissed skin captures my sight – captures my heart as well. How did she penetrate my heart? How did she make me feel again? How did she make me believe in love? These thoughts rush into my head , as I continue to watch her resting form. I do not know what it is about her that drives me crazy. Was it her beauty? Was it her hour glass figure? Or was it perhaps her innocence? The way she sees the world through her own innocent lens sometimes leave me flabbergasted. She is so blinded by her innocence that she does not see how these hungry vultures , men , stare at her beauty and her body with lust and desire. My blood boils when I think

A Poem by Sea People are selfish by nature, silently enjoying the ill-fated decisions by other people Known as pure white stones behind the tall strong walls but are truly wicked Innocence and grace are long forgotten after being corrupted Treachery was present for everybody wants to be on top of the steeple A group of masked people trying to solve their next moves like a riddle Fragile like a glass on the outside but they were all the same: tainted Worshipped by all. They can burn you alive but are still treated like figures who are sainted

What if she wasn’t lying? I stared at the wall as my thoughts turned darker. I have always like innocence. Maybe too much. It was a sickness I never admitted to anyone. Innocence was rare in my world. my world was full of blood, betrayal, and women who only came close because of fear or greed. But a virgin…? That word alone made my pulse quicken. It wasn’t about sex, at least not completely. It was about power. The idea that someone so untouched, so clean, could belong to me alone.

means anymore I don’t know if you can fix a story once people decide how it ends I type Maybe if I just stay quiet, they’ll forget then delete it The moonlight cuts through my curtains, too bright for my liking and I lie there thinking about how silence isn’t always safety sometimes it’s just surrender dressed in peace Still tomorrow I’ll walk different halls keep my head down pretend I’m invisible And maybe if I do it long enough I’ll start to believe it ---

I lie here awake but I’m not one to pray, everything’s changed but now I’m okay. I’m rattled this time, can someone lift my chin, keep my head above water before I’m too deep in. I’ve never had problems, where do I begin, but it’s not a problem because I’m just being human.’ I had always liked poetry and this particular one actually got to me because I felt I could relate to it in a weird kind of way. “Poetry is light, poetry is love. That’s a poem written by an anonymous poet on i*******m. Pstar7….”

I drop my notepad and pen, stunned. “What do you mean by pure and innocent?” Asher asks, leaning onto Artemis’ bed. He appears calm, but I can hear his heart beating a mile a minute. He’s just as scared as I am to hear the answer. “Innocent- meaning they are a virgin. Pure- meaning they have lived a life untainted by evil. They are pure of heart and full of kindness. If I use a tainted heart, the magic will become even stronger and darker,” Artemis warns. “I can’t ask you to kill an innocent person. That’s what makes this magic so powerful.”

The Children of Dawn became legends, their embers lighting every corner of the world. The Flow flowed freely once more, not as magic, not as faith, but as kindness reborn in human hearts. Every act of love, every spark of courage, every whisper of hope— each one was the Flow, speaking through those who remembered warmth. And when people looked up at the moon— no longer blood-red, but pale and gentle— they sometimes swore they saw a faint flicker of gold upon its surface. The heartbeat of creation. Still alive. Still singing.