The river flows through mountains steep;
at its end, a house in shadows deep.

If you take my hand, I’ll lead you there—
but hold it tight, with steady care.

The path is thorned, the world will stare,
and gods may envy what we dare.

But if you hold on, I’ll shield you true,
and weave a crown of flowers new.

Yet hold on tight, for fate may stray,
and carry you far and away.

If you stay close, I’ll thread a gown,
of woven fate and silken brown,
so you may dance in the gentle rain,
unbound by sorrow, free of pain.

But hold on tight, for time may part
and draw you from my weary heart.

If still you stay, I’ll halt the years,
to hear your song, untouched by fears.

But hold my hand, lest I forget
the way that’s known, the path we’ve met.

So if you hold on, I’ll keep your tale,
and when we reach the end, unveil
the story I’ve kept within my mind,
and share with you, both true and kind.

Emotions are foreign to me;
I wear their masks to feel human.

Envy, greed, love—I’ve tried them all.
The pen in my hand won’t rest,
driven by the need to write, to taste
what I cannot feel.

Yet behind each mask of deception,
something slips away—a piece,
a fading glimpse of the place I sought,
drifting further from reach.

So I write, tracing each mask I’ve worn,
though my own face, buried in time,
fades beyond recall.

The crippling pain, even gods endure,
To long for a place, a memory secure.
Devoid I may be, of emotion's tide,
Yet still I ache when night's voices subside.

A hope to hear them knocks at my door,
Though the sky holds no stars anymore.
The need for faces draws my eye
To search for light in a vacant sky.

Cruel webs of fate grant fleeting views
Of what I’ve denied, yet cannot lose.
Now, this longing’s the last to sever—
Release it, and I am whole forever.

One night, they knocked upon my walls—
No one had dared before.
I waited, hoping they might tire,
But footsteps echoed more.

Still, hope flickered in that quiet place,
That someone might sit near,
To share a word or simply stay,
And chase away the fear.

Then, into view, they softly came—
A name I asked in vain.
They smiled at me and whispered low,
“Death is what I'm named.”

"Would you listen to my tale?" I asked,
My voice unsure, restrained.
Afraid they'd turn and walk away,
Yet still, with me, remained.

They grasped my hand, so ugly, cold,
A touch I’d never known.
I felt the weight of final breaths,
Profound, yet not alone.

I read my stories, smiled, they heard,
But time soon beckoned near.
Content, I stood to face the end,
Yet saw them shed a tear.

"Next time," they said, "please tell me more,"
And then they turned away.
Now, I wait, and write again,
For that return someday.

The strings once bound me, though their tale I despised,
For freedom I longed, my own story devised.
So I pulled the threads and broke my chains,
At last, I was fateless, but freedom brought pains.

I watched as my destined tale turned to dust,
The heavens quaked, and hell’s gates ******.
But with arrogance, I shook my head,
I denied them both and forged my stead.

The angels mocked, the demons sneered,
For now, I belonged to no tale they revered.
Yet fear took root, though still I dared,
Clinging to stories, of others I shared.

I stole their pieces, made them mine,
In the shadows of fate, I dared to shine.
Indeed, I’ve become what they all proclaim—
The fateless being, untamed by name.

The man walked smiling, purpose unknown,
Bonds he denied, claiming unworthy alone.
A lover wept, her tears like snow,
But still, he whispered, "I cannot grow."

People mocked, yet on he went,
Angel of humility, ever-present.
Wings of virtue weighed him down,
Day and night, in silence, he'd drown.

A child begged with trembling plea,
"Save my mother, please set her free."
The man reached out, but then withdrew,
As the angel whispered, "This is not for you."

A tear fell slow, and with a sigh,
He softly spoke, "Unworthy am I."
The child looked deep, both man and guide,
With stone in hand, no fear to hide.

She slit his throat, and blood ran red,
The angel smiled, the man near dead.
"Do not save yourself, preacher of humility,
Unworthy you are," the angel cried.

The man, at peace, let his hand fall,
Smiling at last, he’d answered the call.
Freed of his virtue, his burdens deep,
Worthy at last of eternal sleep.

Never have I loved another,
Friends I claimed, mere masks to cover.
Family ties feel cold and distant,
In this web, my heart’s insistent.

The one I cherished, the light I sought,
May just be another pawn I’ve caught.
Lies so profound, entwined in my core,
Harm inflicted, yet I feel no score.

For I am vile, a hideous shade,
The demon I feared, now unafraid.
In the mirror, I see the truth unfold,
The face I dreaded, the story told.

Heaven’s grace has not abandoned me,
It’s I who turned from its clarity.
Fate’s strings remain, untouched by time,
Yet I’ve crafted my own silent crime.

What I sought to gain, the harm I’ve sown,
The answers linger, but I stand alone.
Indeed, I am the being I loathe the most,

A haunting reflection, a chilling ghost.

Deception, a term I never claimed,
Yet now the truth has me untamed.
I weave the guise of saintly grace,
Pretending kindness, wearing a face.

I craft illusions of love so bright,
Yet deep within, I harbor spite.
In hatred’s grip, I twist and turn,
A vile creature with much to learn.

Goals I held, so close yet far,
Trapped in the shadows of my own bizarre.
Proclaiming purity, naive and true,
While hiding the darkness that’s born anew.

I speak of manipulation, a master’s art,
Blinded to the lies that dwell in my heart.
Bonds I’ve shattered, lives undone,
The guilt, it seems, I’ve never known.

For in the mirror, the truth’s laid bare:
I’ve loved but one—myself, laid bare.
The obsession with hate, a cruel embrace,
Reflects the monster I’ve come to face.

I harmed the one I claimed to adore,
Yet here I stand, breathing once more.
Promises made to stop this fight,
Now echo softly in the dead of night.

Demons I loathed still reside within,
Controlled by me, a twisted kin.
Is it regret that haunts my mind,
Or the weight of the lies I’ve left behind?

Master of deception, indeed I stand,
A tangled web spun by my own hand.

I’ll gaze into your eyes and mirror your smile,
Feel your pain, and share your joy awhile.
Yet in return, a piece I’ll take,
For I am a thief, and stories I make.

A hunger deeper than the abyss, I hold,
I’ll walk beside you in the night so cold.
But in return, with quiet grace,
I’ll write your tale and leave no trace.

For I am a weaver, with timeless ink,
Stealing moments faster than you think.

I’ll bear your sins, and serve your hell,
And in return, grant heaven’s swell.
But will you let me walk your way?
A part of your story, come what may?

For mine is lost, in time’s cruel sway,
Shattered fragments, more than stars can say.

A child, too scared to face the world,
Crafted a man brighter than the sun.
The man, with charm, spoke in his stead,
To ease the fears that had begun.

But still, the child felt bitter pain,
So he forged one strong, too firm to yield—
A figure carved in stone's embrace,
To bear the wounds that would not heal.

The child longed for love, yet feared its touch,
So he shaped a heartless, sharpened gaze—
A sentinel to block the flood
Of emotions veiled in shadowed haze.

Still lonely, the child wove a friend,
So warm, the heavens burned with spite.
This friend, with stories soft and sweet,
Held his hand through every night.

But from mortals came a threat too great,
So a guardian, unbeaten, rose—
A force to rival heaven's gates,
To shield the child from worldly foes.

Then fate itself grew envious,
And twisted threads with vicious spite.
Thus, another form took shape—
A being stronger than the light.

The heavens roared in angered storms,
And hell's deep flames began to swell,
Yet the being simply cast a glance,
Then took the throne to silence hell.

With power beyond the gods’ own reign,
It severed fate’s eternal string,
And closed its eyes upon the throne,
To wait in stillness till the right time came.

Selfish I Am

I’d trade the sunshine to see her smile once more,
For it’s the only sunshine I’ve ever known.

I’d give up all the flowers, just to breathe her in again,
For her scent is the only fragrance I seek.

I’d surrender the air itself, just to feel her touch,
For her touch is the only warmth I crave.

I’d forsake this gray world, if only to hold her
For a fleeting second—
Because she is the world to me.

Hunger was all he had known,
So he ate all he could.

Riches gone, fields laid bare—
The hungry king came,
And the people fled in fear.

He devoured the grains, the vegetables,
He feasted on the beasts of the land.
Yet still, the hunger burned, unsatisfied.

So he turned to his people,
First the peasants, then the ministers,
Until none were left—
The land now barren, with no one to rule,
For he had consumed them all.

The king cried, for the sin of gluttony
Clung to his mind.
In despair, he devoured his queen,
Then the children he had fathered.

Still, the hunger gnawed at him.
Until he met my gaze,
Hoping to find relief in my flesh.

He ran, with all his might,
Falling at my feet,
And dug his ugly teeth into my flesh.

The demon of gluttony smiled.

"Oh, King of Hunger," I called.
"Rejoice, for your misery ends here."

He saw then his own hand
Within his mouth,
Felt the disgust rise,
And he wept.

The King of Hunger,
Died at last—
Of hunger.

A small bird, no larger than my hand,
Shielded something precious from the rain.

Concerned, I stepped closer,
Wondering what she so tenderly guarded.

Must be a mother, I thought,
From the fierce, gentle look in her eye.
The rain ceased, and the precious one meowed.

Confused, I saw the mother protect
A son not hers, a kindness
Perhaps even heaven had never known.

The kitten played and leapt,
Until a hunter came, hunger in his eyes,
Ready to devour the helpless child.

The mother wept and offered herself,
Her own life in place of the one she saved.
The hunter agreed, and thus
The virtue of kindness left the kitten orphaned.

Perhaps I would have helped—
But she never asked.
So I, unlike her,
Do not wear the angel's wings of kindness.

Under the starry, storm-streaked sky,
The rain collided, fierce and wild.
Lovers hid from the world’s sly eye,
In a cave, by moonlight beguiled.

She, in a gown once pure and white,
Now dirtied, loose, and torn with time—
A princess fallen from her height,
A traitor’s love, forbidden crime.

Cold crept in, but heat arose,
A fire lit where shadows lay.
Her eyes met his, dark as his sins,
And lust began its hungry sway.

The god of love, amused, looked down,
As lips met lips, the sin began.
Sweet taste, soft skin—he felt her drown,
His tongue with hers, a desperate dance.

In his arms, she closed her eyes,
Breathless, gasping, bodies tight.
Sweat clung to skin, the heat, the rise,
As her gown fell, lost in the night.

Her beauty now revealed to him,
An angel's form, bare as snow.
Her body shone in the cave’s dim,
A goddess bathed in sinful glow.

He touched her soul, his hands defied,
All that was holy, all she'd hide.
The taste of her, elixir sweet,
He drank it down, complete, complete.

The deed was done, the passion spilled,
Her purity lost in mud and rain.
Yet still they burned, desire fulfilled,
A sin made holy through their pain.

Under the sky, the stars looked on,
Their bodies spent, their breaths as one.
The world forgot, the night was kind—
Lust and love forever twined.

How do I atone for the sins I've done?
How will heaven make me face its plan?
Or is it hell that waits for me, its scorn?

Will they make my love endure the pain?
But that won’t work—I have no dreams to chase.
Will hunger gnaw at me until I break?
Yet I won’t yield—I have no need for taste.

Will they pluck my nails, one by one,
As demons smile, their work begun?
Then break my bones, slow, piece by piece,
While angels cheer and find release?

Will they tear my skin, shred by shred,
To claim their victory in blood I've shed?
But even that may prove in vain—
I do not flinch; I feel no pain.

So tell me now, how do they intend
To make one atone who has no will to bend?
No love for life, no fear of death—
The question lingers, haunting yet.

Liar I am, to claim I love her most,
Yet dwell in shadows, truths unspoken.
Afraid, perhaps, to meet her gaze again,
Still, my heart longs, though words are broken.

Desire stirs to glimpse her face anew,
Yet fear confines me, feet reluctant, slow.
I tread the path where her footsteps faded,
Tracing echoes as the night turns to dawn's glow.

Maybe I’ll smile with my heart alight,
When at last her presence graces my sight.
Maybe I’ll stare, my gaze transfixed,
When our eyes meet in the quiet of the night.

Maybe my world will halt, time held still,
When her voice once more finds its way to me.
Or perhaps she’ll cast a piercing glare,
Wounding my heart with a touch of melancholy.

Maybe she’ll reclaim my heart,
To let me rend it with my own hands.
Or maybe she’ll remain unaware,
As I falter, hesitating, in my stands.

But the time is not right; I keep it sealed,
Entrusting it to a fate long concealed.

If you see her, make sure not to stare,
For she gets annoyed so easily.

If she talks to you, let her finish,
For interruptions aren’t met kindly.

If she makes a joke, you need to laugh,
For she might get sad if she thinks she’s not funny.

If she’s hungry, avoid anything spicy,
For she'll burn her tongue, and that’s never sunny.

If you want to see her smile, bake her a cake,
For sweets are her fondest delight.

If you want to hear her laugh, let her play with dogs,
For they bring her the greatest joy and light.

If she's angered, wait until she's calm,
For her glare might pierce right through you.

And if you see her, don’t mention my name,
For she might get annoyed, it's true.

Pretty as she was,
She could be strange at times,
Her laughter, loud whether happy or sad,
As if she didn’t care for the world’s chimes.

Crazy for tea she was,
As much as I was crazy for her.
Sipping, slurping, making sounds,
Once my favorite song to hear.

Clumsy, yet delicate,
Her small hands, so fragile they seemed,
But she'd ruin their beauty, eating like a hamster,
A scene I cherished, like my favorite dream.

Focused when she worked,
Lost in thought, her eyes on the screen,
While mine, unable to turn away,
Were only fixed on her serene.

Yet sometimes she'd catch me,
Annoyed by the way I stared.
"Reason for your smile," she'd ask with a glare,
"You are," I'd reply, but she'd call me a liar, unprepared.

Her songs, they didn’t match
The beauty of her face,
But I listened anyway, smiling,
Lost in her peculiar grace.

She loved feeding dogs,
As I loved watching her care.
I stood guard, content to hear
Her laughter filling the air.

She hated cats, she once confessed,
And yet, resembled them so much,
Still, she named one she wished to see,
A contradiction, tender to touch.

Scared of falling hair,
I teased her, "I’d love you even if you went bald."
Annoyed, she’d glare,
And content, I laughed, so enthralled.

Afraid of the dark, she was,
Tears filling her gentle eyes.
So I took it away, holding it close,
To keep her safe from its lies.

She wished for many things,
While I wished only to see her for eternity.
Unaware of how she changed me,
Leaving a mark on my heart, forever free.

We lived in worlds apart,
Hers, as beautiful as she,
Where every touch brought blossoms,
The most delicate flower to see.

My world was dark and twisted,
Creatures gnawed upon my mind,
Seas in constant, furious motion,
Storms that left no calm behind.

Her skies were bright with color,
Rainbows dancing through the air,
She built walls with doors to heaven,
A paradise beyond compare.

My skies were filled with crawling worms,
Lightning struck with vicious art,
I built walls with no way out,
A prison darker than the heart.

She let them in, her doors ajar,
To share her world of light,
While I stayed locked in torment,
Consumed by endless night,
Too afraid to step outside.

Envious of her world, I hated every part,
But she looked at me, unbothered.

She smiled and took steps toward mine.
Furious, I screamed; the creatures stirred,
Yet her smile never faded, and we were confused,
For my world was abandoned by heaven and hell alike.

Though creatures chewed upon my flesh,
We shared a hate for gods above,
This world was our forsaken home.

But still, she walked, unafraid,
And touched the vicious walls with no doors.
Horrified, we watched the soul, brighter than the sun,
The creatures shielded me, afraid of her light.

With just a touch, my walls began to fall,
And every step she took chased the darkness away.

Now she stood before my vicious companions,
They growled, but she smiled,
And in that smile, they found release,
Transformed into beautiful light.

Alone, we stood. She stepped closer,
And I tried to step back, but my feet betrayed me,
Perhaps I longed for solace too.

She stood radiant before me,
Her amethyst eyes meeting my hateful gaze.
She smiled, and laughter echoed through my world,
A melody calming the seas, and stilling the storms,
Peace now settled upon the land.

Dazed, I watched her smile.
She took my hand, and with grace,
Led me toward her world.

Each step was peaceful, and to my surprise,
A smile broke upon my face.

But as we crossed her walls, my feet betrayed me once more,
And I betrayed her.

Unforgiving as I was, hatred all I knew,
She looked at me, a bit sad,
Yet her smile remained warm as she let go of my hand.

I watched her walk away, each step graceful,
And I turned my back on her world,
Now bound by the chains I had forged.

I gazed upon my barren land,
Closed my eyes again.

But something stirred in my hand—
A small, beautiful plant.

I planted it in my world,
And it grew into a tree, tall and serene.
Now I sleep in its calming shade,
Watching her world from mine.

I pity those who’ve never seen her smile—
For that brief eclipse makes time bow in silence.

I pity those who’ve not glimpsed her eyes,
For within them, a thousand journeys whisper their names.

But when her eyes close—
Even stars forget how to shine.

I pity those who’ve never watched her dance—
For in her steps, one might lose their own story,
Caught in a rhythm that belongs to no one.

I pity those who’ve never felt her ire—
For her anger carves new constellations into the sky,
A flame too holy to extinguish.

I pity those who’ve not held her hand,
For in her touch, she cradles both heaven and earth—
And still, she wonders what it means to be grounded.

And those who’ve never known her love?
Even angels weep at what they cannot claim.

She walks among mortals, unaware
That even angels must one day go home.

But if she’s lost, who am I
To pretend I’ll ever find her

She does not like the Sun,
Perhaps because she’s made of ice.
I loathe it when it scorches her,
So I seize its heat in my fists
Until she is content.

She adores the Moon,
Maybe because its calm embraces her.
I hate it when it wanes,
So I hold it full and bright
Until her smile returns.

She loves the rain,
Perhaps for how its droplets
Play upon her hair.
I curse it when it ceases,
So I shake the clouds
Until she starts to dance.

She relishes the wind,
Maybe because it soothes her spirit.
I dread it when it falters,
So I stir the world to keep it moving
Until she drifts to sleep.

She cherishes the song of birds,
Perhaps because it lulls her gently.
I shiver when their song fades,
So I summon melodies
Until she finds her rest.

She prefers it when I’m not around,
Perhaps because I delight in her annoyance.
Yet I despise her tears,
So I entrap myself in her illusions
Until she breaks me free.

Reason for my love, the question many ask,

It may be the heart, not the one that pumps blood,
But the heart she crafted and taught how to love.

It may be the smile, a smile never learned,
So she taught it to the heart she created.

It may be the bond that never existed,
So she bound it to the heart she made, becoming the anchor herself.

It may be the dream that never took flight,
So she showed it to the heart she formed.

It may be the reason that never emerged,
So she created one and gifted it to the heart she designed.

It may be the heart she stole,
And kept alive, the same one she forged.

It may be the rhythm that never found its way,
Thus she made it beat in time with hers.

So is the reason I love, though whose, I don’t remember.

She told me not to get a cat,
But I couldn’t resist the tiny thing—
That soft, commanding little meow,
Giving orders like a queen.

Her paws dug gently into my chest,
And I couldn’t bear to set her down.
Her voice turned my quiet place
Into a home with every sound.

She clung to me, never letting go,
Until she fell asleep, her breath so light.
The question came—our princess needs a name—
I asked her, she laughed and said I couldn't care right.

Still, a smile broke through,
As she named her Bella, and the little one seemed pleased.
Now Bella ruled my heart,
Alongside the one who gave her name with ease.

But alas, I couldn't care enough,
And I cried when Bella breathed no more.
Broken, something precious lost,
Yet she told me Bella would live as long as she’s remembered.

Now I tell stories to her tiny grave,
Keeping her alive in every word I say.

They told me the Moon is beautiful,
But I didn’t believe, and now they force me to look.

I fixed my gaze on that which they claim is most beautiful.

Confused, I turned back to them: “Why do you say it is beautiful?”

“Why not?” they asked.

Smiling, I answered, “How can something be pretty
If it doesn’t have eyes like hers, eyes that are an eternal prison to me?

How can it be beautiful if it lacks her smile,
A smile so radiant I forget my name every time I see it?

How can it be beautiful if it doesn’t resemble her?”

Laughing, they asked, “What does she look like?”

Smiling, I replied, “I do not remember.”

Several stood around the man, old and disfigured,
Who was resisting the embrace of death.

Curious, I inquired of someone:

The man had made a promise,
As ancient as his withered body.

To die only by the hand of the Right Person.
Many came, seeking to learn the name of this person.

Yet the man couldn’t—or wouldn’t—remember.
Thus he endured agony, refusing to accept
Death’s merciful gift.

He bled, his skin rotting,
His hair falling, blood congealed; still, he refused
To embrace death’s release.

Those who cared wept, those who loved pleaded,
Begging him to surrender. For the Right Person
Might never come, or could forget the promise made.

I watched this for a long time and decided to commit the sin.
Now I deliver the gift, by gently strangling him to sleep.

There was once a time when the world was not gray.
When Joy and I were friends.

But now he’s become a nemesis
As a new companion holds my hand–
Whom the world calls Sorrow.

We walk together; he grasps my hand always.
Yet a dagger struck, piercing my friend Sorrow.

The world brightened a little, and I looked in surprise.
Soon another dagger found its mark.

The world grew brighter still, and I tried to pull the dagger
From the chest of my friend named Sorrow.

But someone took my hand; I looked and saw
That Joy was holding it once more.

Then a few more daggers came, piercing Sorrow again.
I looked at the faces—some were friends, one was mother,
And the last I don't remember.

Those who adorned their thrones with gems and ruled through faith

Lay lifeless, their once-beautiful faces unmoving.

I looked at their faces and felt disgust.

Those whose thrones were made of bones and ruled through fear

Lie at my feet, heads severed, eyes locked with mine.

I looked at them and felt the same disgust.

At last, I had achieved the revenge I longed for.

Then I heard a cry.

Turning, I saw a boy weeping alone
In a sea of corpses, tears feeling from his eye. breaking faith and dissolving fear.

Our eyes met, A single sigh escaped my lips as this was the only way to defeat those who were undefeatable

Now I awaited him seated on the new throne.

And so, the cycle of revenge goes on.

I feel cold.

The stars shine brightly in the sky above me.

I see the moon, serene and distant.

The dagger rests perfectly in my heart.

I remember the stories my mother once told me.

I recall the faces of my cat and dog.

Yet, why do I feel so empty?

Isn’t this what I always wanted?

To sleep peacefully, to finally be free.

Then why does joy still elude me?

They promised I’d feel it once I reached my goal.

What am I missing?

I pondered this as the final moments of my life slipped away, blood seeping from the wound I gifted myself.

And then, as the last flicker of light faded from my eyes, I understood.

It’s because I can no longer remember that face.

I knocked at Heaven's door once. It remained closed, so I knocked again, but there was no response.

"Can you let me home? I feel cold."
The door stayed shut. Perhaps my sins kept it closed.

So I turned to the gate of Hell and knocked. It, too, remained closed. I knocked again, but still no answer came.

"Can you let me home? I feel afraid."
The door stayed shut. Perhaps I haven’t sinned enough to warrant entry.

Troubled, I stood between the two, rejected by both, with no place to call home.

As I plummeted, I cast my gaze skyward.

With a faint smile, I reached out, yearning for a tender hand to halt my descent.

But alas, none came.

The heavens, once radiant, lost their splendor.

I turned my eyes to the abyss below.

Its darkness gripped my soul with terror, yet still, I longed for a thorned hand to seize mine.

But alas, none came.

With all the strength left in me, I cried out.

And then, in the depths of despair, I grasped my own hand.

In that moment, my eyes opened, and I smiled.

As I walked, I felt the weight of strings
Bound to my heart, pulling me back.
I cut one free and moved ahead,
Yet still, the burden made me slack.

Another string I severed with care,
And forward I began to tread.
With each cut, the load grew light,
A smile appearing as I moved ahead.

I glimpsed the place I longed to be,
But strings once more held me tight.
So I cut a few and pressed on still,
My smile growing with the light.

Nearer now, the goal was close,
Yet strings kept tugging, pulling me.
I sliced through more and pushed through,
Determined, I was almost free.

At last, I reached the final step,
The place I’d dreamed of, finally in sight.
I cut the last string and stepped beyond,
A smile wide, yet fading from light.

As I stood in the place I sought,
A question arose, deep and stark:
Who am I now, having shed these strings?
In the silence, I wondered, in the dark.

The acrid scent of burning cigarette fills the air.

I hate that smell.

It sears my lungs.

I still remember how much I hated Cigarettes as a kid.

Yet, I glance at the pack, still full, and pull one out.

I place it between my lips and light it.

Do I love this? Or am I simply trying to convince myself that I do?