t.
it's a malignant disease
a six-letter word; tipping off tongues
armed with locks and keys.
cloaked within the folds of lucid sight,
its bare grip, it holds tight,
suspending a sonorous expression of disbelief.

a.
there is no direction.
instead we are shoved onto the stage of shadows
for a lifetime of grief,
clinging to words of forgotten past.
if self-recognition is a sin,
then I am a glutton
starving for their hungry eyes.

l.
and so, insecurities grow,
and without mention
we chase for the escape to break surface tension.
rushing to dreams we were meant to prolong -
and although we're given choice,
we're still hunted in this vicious game
forced to put down
forced to ease
mirages,
conjured by delusions that everlast the time we're given...

e.
yet in my sleep I ask for mercy,
and glass eyes never shut.
I know I've lost my sheen,
still I yearn to deceive
poor reflections that plastered smiles
can no longer convey.

n.
oh the pride of the gifted!
how it has bestowed immortality to me
in this foreign home called vertigo;
now all I do is scream to slow down
on this never-ending highway,
polishing this obsession for perfection.

t.
my passion's run away,
i don't know who to please...
so to the victims of the pride:
forgive me.

An ordinary river is continuously flowing,
Where different water species are roaming,
But none of them are really surviving,
They stay for a while and later end up dying.
Until one day a master came in,
Everyday he is deeply staring,
He noticed a fish that is not dying nor moving,
That made the river realize the fish is not leaving,
Together, the river and the fish began blooming,
People started recognizing, visiting and appreciating,
From then on both the river and the fish live to be seizing.

A rare and rather precious bloom

The shining light in a darkened room

Someone special

Now and then

Gets closest to a perfect ten

The rest of us live in their shade

They never last

All flowers fade

Phenomenons are born not made

she is wonderful and has the voice of a queen

they are amazing and can speak with power

singing and talent and drawing and talent and acting and talent and writing and talent

talent talent talent

i have none of that special word

but she does

and they do

and that is enough

because she will protect me

and they will comfort me

and i am enough

Of storm and chaos and desire,
The King shall be born and fed,
Destined to reveal such power,
That's known not to mortal men.

His cradle shall be a shield,
The King shall cry in it alone,
A sword his toddler hand shall wield,
Pain shall be his early throne.

His parents will be his killers,
Poison shall be mothers milk,
Gravestones will be ornate mirrors,
Thorns and iron will be silk.

He'll never know no gold nor kingdom,
He'll never know no woman's love!
His bethrothed a firey demon,
His enemy- God above!

His master shall be The Raven,
Carrying a ring of gold,
It's wings show the only way and,
Keys to the throne of old.

His servants will be all men and women,
Yet no kingdom he will rule,
His courts empty, no one in them,
He's his own squire, page and fool.

The Raven king shall spread his wings,
Yet the blind will call it war,
The storm that his crown will bring,
It brewed in the planet's core.

He'll never rest nor stop ascending,
He'll never know but grief and pain,
But he will be unrelenting,
The King of his soul and his name!