Into the darkness my eyes will gaze.
Painting the pictures of my pain.
Violent solutions and devilish ideas.
Are the only ones that suite my ideals.
As for why I do not know.
I just know to let go of hope.
In the end we all fade to black.
Leaving this world with nothing attached.
Feb 12, 2025
Feb 12, 2025 at 2:02 PM UTC
This is what allows my brain to think. But not spiral. It allows me to convey what my own voice cannot in ways more elegant than swans on a crystal lake with the moon and star light shimmering on the surface of the water. It is what allows me to feel but not break. Poetry at its core is about conveying emotion, telling a story, and giving life to thought.
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 1:46 AM UTC
Beneath the crescent moon I weep.
The blazing sun that gives me peace.
The angles who look down on hell.
The devils who curse our mortal hands.
We are bound by a certain pain.
A pain for which we are never the same.
I regret past actions but that's in the past.
But the pain I feel may always last.
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 1:23 AM UTC
Chaotic in life
Regretful in ones own thoughts
Sorrowful in death
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 1:11 PM UTC
From dusk to dawn my thoughts go on.
In life and death I regret wasted breath.
Now In the present I repent for my wrongs.
Ever bonded to the silent song.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
The shadow of my thoughts looms over me in the midnight not reacting or speaking. Just making its presence known. Persistently distracting my mind with the silence so loud. I wish to lay my mind to rest but I can't as it's always there. Almost as if observing me. Judging my choices and relentlessly punishing me with it's very existence. Is this insomnia or insanity?
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 3:36 PM UTC
Opening the door revealing a dimly lit hall and at the end a door marked by a single nearly extinguished candle. A door leading down. Down into the past. As you take each step forward you can't see anything but you can hear. You can hear the vague echo of the past, of childhood laughter, of a once pure hearted boy who suffered what no child should ever have to. As you proceed deeper down this now spiraling staircase you hear sobbing. As you keep going it becomes louder and eventually you see a dim light around the bend of the spiring pillar of black that was the stairs you walked just minutes before and as you approach closer you see him. The boy in the dark. He was sobbing and once he notices your presence he turns and wipes his tears and proceeds to thank you for not letting him be alone. Then he falls back off the edge of the stairs plummeting into the darkness. Forgotten but forgiven
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 2:59 PM UTC
As i walk the garden of my mind the calm breeze of thoughts and the songs of memories play gentle in the background. I feel at ease and tend to this garden with my life. However unfortunately gardens can be destroyed so easily by things such as fire, diseases, and animals. And so i try my hardest to protect my blissful escape but I always fear I may not be able to.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 4:26 AM UTC
Mortality is what allows us to see the beauty of the world. It is also what allows us to suffer the remarkable amount mankind has shown capable of. Why must our greatest honor also be our sickening curse?? As I asked myself that question it dawned on me. You must be able to recognize evil to see good.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 4:12 AM UTC