the genius
of his spirit isn't
allowed to be
confident

the muses around
his works
laugh at his
shy hubris

his connections
to the creative are
buried under a
desert

his voice
is full
of charisma
and doubt

there's something
in the way
of love

his heart is
alone in hell

in his father's
home
searching for the
way

his life is a
lightbulb
as bright as
it is empty

just like his
poetry

You’re always right
Until you forget that you’re alive
You’re always righteous
Until you forget what is right

Your soul is a paper kite
And the wind that blows sets it alight
But your body is flightless
You recall when you fall from a great height

You’re screaming into
An endless void
Hearing an echo
Of your own voice
Screaming back at you
Filling your own void

𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲
ℑ𝔫 𝔞 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢
𝔐𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩

Loving , praising and embracing oneself isn't hubris and selfish ,
rather , the best technique for keeping all those at bay who expect from others to stay under their feet.

Invader of war
At my doorstep
Knocking on thoughts
Now it's open
Please come in
Pillage, destroy
Whatever granny can provide.

Standing tall its rungs seemed so far apart then
The ladder peered down at my achievements with glee,
Realizing that I was nowhere near the standard of the men
That so easily surpassed this obstacle before me.
I tentatively touched the ladder, pleading for a strong foundation;
The steel rungs screamed back at me. Nonetheless I flailed forwards,
Gripping the battered beam without hesitation.
It told me of my critical mistake as it flung me westward,
And the jagged cliff loomed on as I was propelled ever closer
To the end of my hubris, that so set me on this path years ago.

.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'

Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'

Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                            
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,

Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'

Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
.