There is a ghoul within me,
that lives on nicotine,
exhaust fumes,
and broken dreams.
There is a ghoul within me
that scowls at the sun,
but smiles sickly at the moon,
chewing bullets in a gun.
There is a ghoul within me,
with a lost mind.
It treads on torn glass,
of a burnt kind.
there is a ghoul with me
and i'm alone
in your room
Dec 14, 2025
Dec 14, 2025 at 6:41 PM UTC
A single candle lit.
A solo fire burning in solace to flip,
That which is dark within my soul
Into much more than that which is known -
That I’m broken,
and need redemption.
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 11:23 AM UTC
Do you know that feeling?
That feeling where your soul feels rotten
Whence a storm laid, now lays barren a silence
So quiet and empty that nothingness seems to spark a light
Your body lays so still,
You mind remains unfilled
With thoughts of happiness and hope.
But instead infected with reality and doses of truth
Inferiority seeking to turnover
Into superiority - attempts to become fail and reveals
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
Filing its fangs to a bite never opening but always closing.
Do you know that feeling?
Of pain and insanity?
Overthinking, reacting, turning vanity into insecurity.
Fearing that first step, to face your demons hidden as angels
valiantly.
Jan 21, 2020
Jan 21, 2020 at 6:12 AM UTC
Let the father reminisce about the,
shepherd who failed to lead the sheep,
Lucifer falling asleep,
The souls he fails to reap,
Fall on blades of hellfire,
for the nether monsters to hold
And keep.
The figure is not a wolf,
Not a leopard,
But an innocent child.
Shrouded in the darkness of the wild.
His crimes,
Deeply filed in between,
His nails.
His responsibility to protect,
He fails.
A preacher,
Solely depended on,
A leader,
Solely repressing on,
The lies of a book.
Ones that cannot be overlooked,
Much like a rook,
On a chessboard.
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
I am the sheep that leads the shepherd,
not that the shepherd would ever lead me.
For you see,
good things don't come in threes,
they come in ones.
One bee.
A forest with one tree
One snake that made Eve flee.
I am the thunder that frightens the child,
scaring even those who are wild.
For you see,
butterflies don't fly,
they soar,
wings causing waves,
so strong,
it disrupts even the planet's core.
I am the pen that writes the tales,
a myth,
a legend,
attempts to amaze never fail.
For you see,
It is the writer that feels,
and the reader that touches.
My stories,
live,
not messed by airbrushes.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
I woke up like this.
Face caked in sadness,
eyes swollen of pity and anger.
I woke up like this.
Heart slowly starting up,
veins warming up.
I woke up like this.
Arms bent out of shape,
legs spread out for -
I woke up like this.
Head spinning,
body sinning.
Did I sin?
Or did you?
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 7:11 AM UTC
If I ask you,
will you say yes?
Or will shallow feelings,
take over and mess?
Witness my heart,
beat off the chart.
For I fell for you,
the first day I saw you.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
His hair,
striking down,
Zeus's thunderbolts in the sky.
Her hair,
Flowing round,
waves of the sea, clouds of the sky.
His skin,
dark as can be,
akin to coal,
darkness warps as far as I can see
Her skin,
pale pastel,
image reflects on a white seashell.
void of colour.
His job,
paying much,
respect and such.
Her job,
paying little,
a gap that men find acquittal.
His eyes,
grey like the storm,
pupils dilated as he felt her warmth
Her eyes,
blue like ice,
blocks of reflection,
of her cold heart,
of her body made of ice.
Is equality just sameness,
is that what you want to be?
Just like the next one,
prove your uniformity.
Or be different.
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
Lines,
red ink flow down his arms.
Depress the pain,
for the death of his brother,
had not simply cursed Cain.
Smiled when they call him deranged
An affidavit of sadness to rage.
Lines,
cut so deep, structured so fine.
It's a pain of a pure sort of nature,
A pure kind.
It's this way, or he goes away.
For good this time.
Lines,
pastel skin so sharp,
the colour red colours and warps.
Church bells toll for a funeral.
For one must accept the pain
to return and become sane.
Or they deny the lines.
Let it be for just one more moment.
Just own it.
The anger, the rage, the pain, the sorrow.
Soon, there won't be any feelings left to borrow.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
It was an AR15 that the kid used.
A gun that, in this free world, men can indulge and abuse.
A boy who saw him load his gun,
the gunman saw and simply said run,
A word that made the child flee for his life,
just before waves of bullets came upon the school,
The kid looked on and asked himself
why is life so cruel.
How many more people have to die,
before its ****** metal, not tears, that your children cry.
This free world, rife with argument by silly politicians
Men that make decisions, without experience of the repercussions.
This gunman was not a delinquent, he was a child.
Born of your failed systems, born of your sick traditions.
A boy who without second thought, took up his assault rifle
and headed into war with the children that learned ambition with him,
emotion and sudden movement that made them all feel just that little bit stifled.
This free world is one with a core of rights,
A doubled edged dagger,
a topic of discussion that makes the average fat man want to fight.
‘Over my cold dead body’ he said.
LET ME HAVE MY GUN
Because whilst others use it for fun,
the protection I have outweighs the fact
that when a 19 year old comes to school,
all the other kids have to run.
It’s ridiculous, heck its thoroughly imbecilic,
How children have to be careful of the education system,
not because of a
nationwide test
but a,
nationwide threat
of grown men,
looking to prove their ego,
men that can’t go against the party line
that fail to realise that life is more important
than the next donation
than the dollar sign.
You want protection? That’s completely fine.
Just don’t use the bodies of your children
as meat shields and pretend everything’s fine.
Don’t say you’ll do something as if something will change
because nothing will change unless it does.
This free world is not filled with love but truly its filled with hate,
A bloodlust so dense, even children’s blood cannot sate it’s thirst.
Until it's more than just a child hurt, but a country with a bullet wound
Caused by people, who love guns so much but blame it on the loons.
Your pain, I cannot prove.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 6:45 AM UTC