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Ay 2d
Pale faced princess trapped inside the castle in her cotton candy pink dress.
For a while she's been stuck in a mess as broken cassettes play back her regrets.
Cigarettes since she's been dead, trapped inside the castle in her cotton candy pink dress.
The day has come where she has died, only to find she's come alive.
you can call me a princess,
but I won’t wait around
for some prince.

hand me the sword.
I’ll slay my own dragon.
I’ll fight my own battles.
I’ll be my own hero.

and if that prince shows up
trying to save me
when I don’t need saving,

he won’t be fighting someone
for my hand in marriage.

he’ll be fighting me
for his own **** life.
There the moon gliding its light to guide her slipping away — and the shadows in the tree stalked her soulless grumbling footsteps.

Cricket's music calmed her heart. The immense outcry of the branches woke the parallel of the Dead Tree amid the black forest. Even the wilderness turned cold when she steps afoot. Her sight gone and her heart is pretentious to the music of the lonely shadows. “Come here, dear, for you must set yourself free.”

It was from the parallel — the ones whom the living bodies buried and forgotten. The sandcastle was falling away. The shadows almost struck her red knitted dress and begging her to come. But she was finding her way — a princess lost in the deep. To fall away, to be shot by a bullet straight into her heart. To be gone, and to sing her last breath.

She murmurs to the shadows in the tree, even when she could not make out her way, she steps, and steps. Until she fell into the deep hole and woke up, she was in a coffin. The loud cries of the people surrounding her — while she was being buried alive. She sang her last breath, then, the shadows beneath her held her body.

Until they were in the sandcastle. The ones that fall away in endless sorrow and death. Maybe then, she belongs as a soulless spirit to never be content in the living dead.

There the moon gliding its light to guide her slipping away — and the shadows in the tree stalked her soulless grumbling footsteps.
I'm not confident in writing this. But I hope someone will appreciate this piece.

Have a goodnight/good day
دema Sep 14
you taught me
how much love
truly resides in me,
how capable I am,
of loving, being loved,

but you also
reminded me,
of why I had
built walls around
my heart so high,
that even I couldn't
get a peak.
Tizzop Sep 10
got bass-addicted at age 5, waterfalls boliling
holy high, i'm asking god for forgiveness
lost my morals on the way, lord forgive me
a night and a fifty, forever frisky

time is frippinly frozen, so much ice and a watch
i can't say that i'm not chosen, maybe watch and listen
between the shore and the castle, i am trippin'
everybody needs a trademark, i got a lion birthmark

how can you count on people when they are leaving
find me down by the boat, measure my breathing
under the palm trees, we will be leaving
16 souls in the bottega, zippers are shivering

investments full of frippers, you feel me?
the magic of the rubix is really speedy
i am needy like an infant, a snow male, steely
benjamins are flying through the money machiny
Frippy...
Nathalie Aug 20
The dreamer in me
provokes to
awaken the dreamer
in you
So that we can
build a castle
of hearts and
create new dreams
of our own
Standing together
as two and be
Stronger than we
could ever be alone.

~Nathalie
Hermes Varini Jul 24
In the year 1332, at auld Dupplin Moor,
Wi' a shimmering Dagger of War,
Ah pierced the Looking Glass,
And amid so wild a Fire Mass,
Ironclad and devastating,
Mine awn Wraith cam.
Owre He beheld me!
His Claymore gleaming, unsheathed,
Into a darkness no one could see,
Ghaist, I winna yield to thee!
Across yon shield wa, quo' He,
In tyme of war ah threw myself,
Wi' gilded Targe and unforgiving Fury,
High flames falling athwart my iron wame,
While thoosan times boiling wapin fell
O'er that clan of skellums (Wundor Sceawian!)
Frae the white barbican, before the black well,
While thoosan times rising nae fellow-mortal
Amid thoosan deadly onslaughts
Ironclad frae the Fire;
But now man, to my warlike whisper do listen:
Ere the rust, in robes of Time,
Shall curse thy blade,
Airn fist ye maun ay wear,
To hold the Firestorm,
To avenge yon star shining still,
And auld Duntulm's stane,
Sae ah shall be strolling forth
In battle ahead of thee!
And when before Dirleton's Wa,
Wi' Colour of Hell reddening,
And next to auld South Ruin,
Yell warlike, enraged Wha Daur!
To thy enemies, and to thy consumed flesh
Doomed I say no longer
Within a forerunning Shade of Death;
And now advance! thy lane, and faithfu'
To thy auld Emblem of Steel,
Whar moorlan winds gaed,
Whar Immortality gleamingly dwells.
There is a semiotic version of this poem, which is written in a potent, altogether martial medieval Scottish tone. It contains my own image "Ghost of Iron". The main theme remains the speaking double, or alter ego, as generated from within a very mirror, and as leading the narrator to immortality. In this light, the underlying message can be looked upon as proving antithetical, although no doubt related to Edgar Allan Poe's own tale William Wilson. The title refers to Dirleton Castle, in Scotland.
Kyle Jul 5
I live in a cursed castle.
It's dark and scary;
And you can feel it's pain and misery.
It's cold and messy;
Yes, I live in there;
And I'm bound to be there.
Cattatonicat Jun 23
In a castle of sand

What are we breathing
What are we wasting
What are we protecting

Why did we build this castle
Why did I build this castle

I built it to leave it behind
I built it to love
I built it to live
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