Some wounds don't bleed. They echo. In this haunting collection of poetic fragments, Banapsha gathers the broken pieces of silence, grief, and longing-and holds them to the light. Each page is a shard: sharp, delicate, and aching with truth. From invisible chains to hollow laughter, from ghost love to fractured dawns, these verses speak for the souls who vanish quietly, scream inwardly, and carry beauty in their brokenness. Shards is not a cry for help-it's a symphony of survival. Raw, lyrical, and unflinchingly honest, this book is for anyone who has ever felt unseen, unheard, or undone. You are not alone in the dark. These pages remember you.…mehr
Some wounds don't bleed. They echo. In this haunting collection of poetic fragments, Banapsha gathers the broken pieces of silence, grief, and longing-and holds them to the light. Each page is a shard: sharp, delicate, and aching with truth. From invisible chains to hollow laughter, from ghost love to fractured dawns, these verses speak for the souls who vanish quietly, scream inwardly, and carry beauty in their brokenness. Shards is not a cry for help-it's a symphony of survival. Raw, lyrical, and unflinchingly honest, this book is for anyone who has ever felt unseen, unheard, or undone. You are not alone in the dark. These pages remember you.
Oh, Banapsha, the daydreamer who thought spinning stories was just a chill time until reality hit her with a job title. Then she got slapped with a massive dose of imposter syndrome, and her book dreams did a total faceplant into the pit of self-doubt. Epic fail, right? But guess what? Instead of cranking out novels, she started pouring her heart out in a creative diary - like, therapy for her wild imagination that sometimes tripped into straight-up fantasy land. And oh, the plot twist! As her messy musings got real, a legit story emerged like a boss phoenix rising from the ashes of her wannabe-author dreams. Suddenly, those scribbled rants turned into a full-blown series. Who'd have thought her coping mechanism, originally just to keep her own chaos in check, would become a rad escape for others? Passion for writing, you ask? We'll see if she's just flexing, or is the real deal.
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