The Cold speaks to me in whispers, 
A voice from the depths of the grave, 
Echoing through the lifeless expanse, 
Where justice has long since decayed,
 
I do not feel regret, 
Nor the pulse of living flesh, 
As the frost gnaws at my hollow bones, 
A numbness creeping through my skin,
 
This world is a tomb, cold and barren, 
Where the dead do not dream. 
The Cold's embrace is all that shields me, 
A shroud against the world’s cruel gaze,
 
In this endless void, 
The Cold's embrace is the only truth left. 
It is the only thing that lingers, 
The only thing I still crave.

Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
Tails. 
Another flip, 
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
Once more, Tails. 
A final toss, 
Heads or Tails? 
Call it, 
This time, Heads. 
1 in 8 for this pattern, 
50 percent, 
the mirage of certainty, 
the Gambler’s fallacy, 
a delicate dance with fate, 
try and try again, 
there is always uncertainty. 
time passes,
the stakes grow higher, 
chaos ensues,
the odds are stacked, 
and the heart races, 
fortune smiles and frowns, 
the game is relentless,
play despite the odds, 
every loss carries a lesson, 
every win, a fleeting high, 
With every flip, a new chance emerges, 
the gamble continues, 
fate is unpredictable,
who knows what awaits us? 
Only Lady Luck knows, 
In this endless cycle, 
Enjoy the unknown

They have left the mortal realm,  
Life seeping from their corpse,  
Warmth fading like a whispered breath,  
The loss of a loved one,  
The weight of absence settles deep,  
Love lingering in the shadows.  

It’s not time to mourn the dead,  
celebrate the echoes of their laughter,  
the light that danced in their eyes,  
and the love they gifted to this world.  
Let us honor what they once were,  
in the quiet moments of reflection,  
grief melts into gratitude,  
love transcends the veil.  

Personal experiences weaving a tapestry of who they once were,
moments shared create a legacy  
etched in time,  
forever felt, now in silence.

Planted in spring, 
Golden kernels sown, 
Roots anchored deep in the earth, 
Blossoms unfurl, 
The fields stretch wide, 
Full of divinity and splendor, 

Through long days and steady focus, 
Obstacles met, paths cleared ahead, 
The work now bears fruit, 

Autumn brings the harvest, 
A bounty gathered with care, 
Golden stalks bend low, 
Swaying in a quiet rhythm, 
Leaves rustle in the wind, 
The sky fills with fading light, 

We gather in fields of gold,
Nature’s work is fulfilled,
A cycle now complete.

When I gaze into the mirror,
I see no reflection,
When they take my picture,
There is no image to capture,
It feels as though I do not exist,
No connection between my body and soul,
When silver strikes, I still feel it,
Yet I do not claim it as my own,
I yearn for a body that captures my essence,
One day,
I will confront the shadows that haunt my soul

In the absence of your radiant glow, 
The world has grown dim and muted, 
Once vibrant, now draped in shadows, 
The flowers that bloomed now wilt and wither, 
Their beauty fading in the stillness. 
The warmth and comfort you once offered 
Are now a distant echo, 
Like whispers fading into the void. 
Darkness creeps, a subtle tide, 
The stars flicker, their brilliance dimmed, 
In their place, a hollow remains. 
Has your light been swallowed whole? 
Yet I cradle the ember of hope, 
A flicker in the heart of desolation, 
Stars begin to twinkle, a celestial gleam, 
Their light, a reflection of your shining soul. 
Your spirit ignites within me, 
My sunshine