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Leifa May 25
Souls, once one in the sun,
Now reach for fallen stars.
Ludic, hopeless fingers—
G r a s p i n g
For a sole thread of truth.

Don’t fly too close, little firefly.
For it’s flame shall render
All your desires and dreams
To spurned puddles of wax.

D r i p p i n g

In these wrinkled hands
Formed for puppets
A silhouette on the sphere
As the Earth only knows,
The darkness it adheres.
Hex Apr 12
On a night where no moon shines,
I lie and brood in my confines,
Nocturne's wolf has come to dine,
Gnashing canines with sharpened claws,
Over is night--devoured by the maw,
The wolf opens wide, an unhinged jaw,
I stare in awe, in saccharine fear,
A beastly roar is all I can hear,
Yet I feel no pain--Only a lonesome tear.

I open my eyes to a room bathed in black,
On the floor is a woman, in a dress of lilac,
She stands with a shiver, and turns me her back,
Dark hair covers cracked skin--porcelain but soft,
She stared at me gravely, shaking oft,
Then slowly she danced as I sat and watched,
She twirled, pranced, and spun, but once she botched,
Then she sat, knowing night had its victim notched,
The Ballet of Shadows had come to rest--
     --but not yet had my final test.

I slept again, and woke in the dark,
Now, there was a mirror, a saviour from stark,
Painted in white, it was fit for a monarch,
On top, a remark, a blackened skull,
My reflection itself, appearing so dulled,
My face was blank, and emotion was null,
My eyes were closed, but I could still see,
As I watched my smile twisting with glee,
Crimson nectar now leaking through teeth,

The mirror shell cracked, my nerves were wracked,
From the mirror I retreat, but with me it backed,
My instincts raced, my psyche attacked,
The me in the mirror began to convulse,
Quickening was the beat of my pulse,
Beating like drums, a rhythm repulsed,
Then it stopped, the mirror froze,
And off to sleep I began to doze,
Not before my mirror had one last prose,

One finger raised--be silent, mouth closed.
An experiment with dark and disturbing poetry. Let me know if you think you can decode this one.
Emrys Mar 21
Crumble-topped castle walls;
Silver-suited service beings,
Await, bated breath behind
The walls of stone and steel…

Near’ After than Here,
They prance the place,
Enact the furious rites,
Turning human castle ‘to ghoulish-lair.

Eternal, nocturnal, is their life.
Their language - silence,
Their morbid delectation - You.
My first poem - enjoy!
Hex Mar 19
Constitute admittance,
All breaks, shattering clean,
While fording the distance,
Through light, shines darkened beam,
Only for the week.
Newly sheltered instance,
White room, with shadows deemed,
They fight with persistence,
And roam so far from dreams,
Only for the week.
Rays through windows glisten,
Shining on a fiddled seam,
They talk, but I won't listen,
That makes days fly, it seems,
Only for the week.
I ponder my admission,
No shreds of hope yet gleam,
They challenge at my diction,
"I'm fine, I'm safe," I plead,
Only for the week.
I'm trapped within a prison,
It matters not, my screams,
A finalized decision,
No tears remain to stream,
Only for the week.
The tale of a mental break.

A certain cycle of stages in life is tied into this poem. Tell me if you find it.
Dead flowers lay on the floor
stems cut to try and save the petals in failed attempt
      By one
           They all fall
Until there's nothing left at all

The Autumn chill indicating the end
For without death,
no one would miss the twirl of a sycamore seed
or the fresh face of daisies who have just bloomed

So as all the petals fall,
and I gently go with
Maybe I'll be missed after all
seasonal depression is a *****, not to mention she just joins clinical depression in a sucky duet
Leifa Jan 31
Descry the glittering sand,
Every coin is vestal, unused.
He cast unto the well,
Uttering a spell
That dwindled on his aching lips.

Amiss, his voice does not graze
Her conscious divination.
A thousand times again,
He strives-
Just for a spare thought.

But the fool, consumed, controlled
Wallows in the walls
She sculpts around him.

He begins to work away the vines
Of her honied tendrils.
Yet, each finger twined of gossamers,
Drenched in delirium.

Nay, she rejects his presence.
But grants her endless visitations
As a specter, with a Faustian kiss.

He drinks of her,
To parch his arid throat.
Remote, he holds the seed
Which festers within.
**** me now,
I'll put myself to a grave.
The coffin gives the whole of me.
The moment, but no power can ever save!

Let me die.
Sit in these gardens with your dark eyes!
Silent the matter lies;
Keep a wanderer out in sky.

I won't return.
Find no escape in me.
Slow down the wilderness I see,
That crowd around thy home and be!
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