In the middle of a dark and morbid groove,
Stood tall a house that would not move.
Built with pride from days long past,
Now left to rot, decaying fast.

Once a throne of joy and cheer,
Now filled with dust and webs and fear.
Its ancient soul begins to fade,
In silence where no light has stayed.

The closer you look, the more you’ll find
That gold once painted now’s resigned.
Like autumn leaves that die and fall,
The house decays beneath it all.

Before the snow, it turns to dust—
A monument of broken trust.
Its walls once warm, now cold and bare,
It shivers in the stagnant air.

There stands a door, but no key’s near,
No handle there to turn or steer.
It seems to speak with ghostly breath—
A warning carved in silent death.

The windows shut like coffin lids,
No light escapes, no life forbids.
You try to peer through glass so black,
But only see the void stare back.

Old letters lie upon the porch,
Stamped and sealed but lost their torch.
To a man once known who lived inside,
Though none have written since he died.

Yet still the chimney coughs up smoke,
A sign that breaks the silence choke.
You’d swear no soul could still reside,
But something stirs and will not hide.

Around the house, the garden weeps,
Where flowers died and silence creeps.
The grass has turned a sickly shade,
As though all hope had long decayed.

You stop and ask with frozen breath—
What turned this home to haunting death?
What creature stays where no one roams,
Still breathing in a house of bones?

- Niko

Have you ever felt your fire burn dim,
That all you do is not for him—
Not for you, but for their sake,
Yet they still say you make mistakes?

You give and give, your hands go dry,
You hold your tongue, you swallow pride,
You wear the weight they never see—
And wonder, is the fault in me?

You say, “It’s love, I do this all,”
But no one catches when you fall.
You’re left unheard, your soul turned blue—
And start to doubt what once felt true.

A father gives, yet gets no name,
Except when there’s someone to blame.
A son will love with silent cries,
But gets no light, just darker skies.

No one says sorry, they just let go,
And hide their pain so none will know.
They march on paths that never bend,
Pretend to care, but never mend.

The ones who never feel this ache—
They’re lucky souls, make no mistake.
And some will heal with time and grace,
They’ll find their peace, their rightful place.

But what of those who bear it long,
And think this silence is not wrong?
They’ll pass it down in quiet ways,
A haunted love that never stays.

They’ll stop the talks, they’ll lose the thread,
Yet try to help through tears unsaid.
A meal, a coat, a roof, a hand—
All done in silence, never planned.

But hearts don’t speak in measured tone
When love is caged and left alone.
The cycle spins, it scars, it brands—
This silent curse of being a man.

- Niko

Fester and rot bleed where power lies,
Preying with greed, like starved-born mice.
Forging illusions of comfort for pawns,
Battling on a board played by men with horns.

Unfolding wars in the names of gods,
Vowing it’s for the sake of tamed dogs,
While the young and foolish **** each other,
To the hoarding barks of the old and the bitter.

The demise of the wicked will reach the road,
The day the pawn gets to the end of the board,
And realizes liberation stands where mercy dies—
For the silent queen, the castles, and the knights.

And that is what makes pawns into Kings,
But everything comes back full circle, like rings.
Once a pawn, always a pawn in greed’s quest,
For power attracts the worst, corrupts the best.

- Niko Randeni

Lately, I’ve felt like time is running out—
And sometimes, like it already has for me.
I stare into nothingness and think
Of things I’ve done, or should have done…

But nothing ever comes to mind
That I have done for me—my soul,
The person inside.
Everything was, and still is, for everyone else.
And I wonder if I’ll ever get to live for me.

Time is running out—I feel it
Like an itch in the back of my head.
My thoughts are frayed, my health is fading.
At times, I can’t even breathe—
Literally.

But there’s nothing I want to do about it.
I welcome the angels of death to take me home—
Wherever that may be.
For maybe, just maybe,
I’ll have a purpose in the afterlife.

-  Niko Randeni

To the full moon of August,
I write though you may never hear—
Since we last danced beneath your glow,
I’ve waited in the silent dark,
And through it all, I have missed you.

Once I danced beneath your silver,
And smiled as a fool smiles at heaven.
Never had I seen such purity—
A glow untouched by war or world,
A stillness only gods could shape.

Now the years walk heavy on my chest.
I sleep in darkened skies.
Yet in dreams, I find you—
But never alone,
And never mine.

I saw you beaming upon another,
A man of gentle breath and downcast eyes.
I burned with fire and did not strike,
For you had chosen peace over flame.
And peace… I could not give.

Strange is the heart of the wounded beast:
It howls for joy and sorrow both.
I wish you laughter, even far from me,
Though the wish guts me like a blade.

Let no one say I wanted chains—
I only wanted you to know.
Not to return,
But to understand
What thunder lived beneath my silence.

I was a storm with no song,
A fire too close to the skin.
Perhaps you fled for air,
And I do not blame the wind
For fleeing the flame.

Never again did peace return
In the way it lived beneath your light.
Kings may dream of crowns and thrones,
I dreamed only of your quiet glow.
No fire nor song could match your stillness—
I have missed you beyond words.

Oh, full moon of August—
The lone witness of my joy—
If ever your light falls near me again,
Let it know this:
You were the finest light my soul ever knew.

- Niko Randeni

1 “The Noble Princess”

We were children with crowns of spring,
Your tears taught me what love must bring.
Though I broke your heart too soon,
You found peace beneath another sea.

Your grace unfolded free from my hands.

2 “The White Swan”

You were the dream I dared not name,
Too bright, too pure to share my flame.
I loved you deep, but let you go—
To shield you from my lion’s woe.

A silent rose I could not claim.

3 “Full Moon of August”

You were my flame, my vow, my peace,
We loved like stars that burn too bright.
Though time has torn what we began,
No woman knew me like you did.

My lasting love, the ache that never sleeps

4 “Amber Eyes”

Two broken hearts in borrowed time,
We touched with hands too frail to hold.
You were my echo in the storm,
A fleeting fire, soft and warm.

We left no scars —just withered glow

5 “The Moonless Blossom”

You gave me all, yet bore a ghost,
I held you close but loved her most.
Even in your arms, I saw her face-
You stayed through silence, raw and true,

A queen who knew I’d never choose.

- Niko Randeni

Lost within an endless grove,
She saw a house in the husk of dawn.
Once a throne—now where spiders crawl,
Morbid crept in with a hush of scorn.

Gazed upon a golden door, no key or bell to ring,
She knocked and cried through the storms and rain.
On the porch, silence wept of lonely echoes,
With a breath of sorrow gazed in the shadows

Storms had passed, and the rain had stopped,
She stepped out, numb and exiled of hope.
But looked back for a glow—a flickering light,
That called her back, a comfort in the night.

Creaks and squeaks echoed from the door,
Whispering, the key is her—and nothing more.
The door gave in, like a wolf when it’s laid,
For she stood where others fled, knelt when others preyed.

She saw halls—painted anew, warm and bright,
Drifting tunes, smooth and slow, all through night.
Yet felt something wrong—a wretched scent,
An ancient breath with a rage that never bent.

She didn’t fathom why the house was cleaned,
That it was for her—so she would be pleased.
An ache to know what lay beneath bright halls,
She tore them down—the gold-draped walls.

She stripped the paint—the perfect lie,
Exposed the red he’d sealed inside.
And blood pooled thick beneath her feet,
Dressed in rage no smile could cheat.

Sorrow leaked from every stair,
A heart long rotted in despair.
Thoughts of fleeing crossed her mind,
Yet chained in guilt—for love she bore inside.

Unyielding, she picked every piece of decay,
Shaping them back together like clay.
She painted over the void and rue,
Till her hands bled—yet stuck like glue.

A menacing voice howled within the walls,
Shunning her from pain before she falls.
For all her love still couldn’t repair,
What lay in patches, too worn to bear.

- Niko Randeni