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The board lies still—eight ranks, eight files,
Each square a world, a thousand trials.
Its checkered face, both calm and cruel,
Waits quietly to play the fool.

The stage is set, the players stare,
Each move a hope, each glance a dare.
They chase the crown, a fleeting throne,
Yet play this game so not alone.

The pawns march on with hearts held tight,
Blind to edges of wrong and right.
The knights vault over doubts and ties,
Twisting through paths that mask disguise.

While bishops slide through shades between,
They blur the line of right and mean.
The rooks stand firm with rigid pride,
Their paths cut sharp, no step to slide.

The queen—so fierce, so fast, so grand—
Wields power none can understand.
The king just shuffles, slow and small,
Yet all would die to guard his fall.

But none ask why this prize they seek—
What worth has power if souls grow weak?
They fight for check, they fall for mate,
They crown the skill, yet praise the fate.

But when the game has run its thread,
All lie the same—still, cold, and dead.
No victor’s cheer, no mournful cries,
Just silent echoes, fading skies.

A silent watcher beyond the frame,
Eyes steady, untouched by fleeting game.
He watches rules with endless flight,
The fragile dance of truth and lies.

Unmoved by moves both thrill and blind,
He holds the truth the young can’t find—
That all their struggle, all their pain,
Is but a shadow, not the reign.
LC
she moves in light
while I'm awake
renders mercy
for hearts that ache

she waits in patient
silent hope
providing comfort
a cushion to cope

she has no thoughts
of giving in
slows my breath
when air gets thin

as I await
the final tide
she allows a glimpse
of the other side

she is the reason
this soul can rhyme
with every season
her gift of time
LC is a reference to my Mother; Elsie, who passed many years ago but is always with me
kain Dec 2019
Streaked by rain
Hair matted down
To their face
Watching from my window
Up on their toes
Glass pressed to nose
Loving me
In a way that only
A night watcher could
Not sure where this bad boy came from.
Asominate Mar 2019
They’re always watching, following me
I can feel their presence everywhere I go
I tried to listen to them, I felt them calling me
So I welcomed them in and let me go
I come upon a rickety old bridge,
glancing down I wonder what it
would be like to float free.
Free of this life and all that it brings.
That would be something else entirely.

Lost in thought, I soon realize
I'm being watched.
Looking to my right,
I see a tall faceless figure in between
the barren trees.
It just stands there
staring at me.
What does it want?

I move along the bridge, my heart
racing at every step.
I hope my time
has not come, for I want to leave on
my own accord.
I stop just short of a rotting
board. I hear nothing but eerie silence.

My heart still racing, I turn around, noticing
the figure is there no more.
What could this possibly mean for me?
Is it really my time?
Am I being lead to my untimely demise?
These questions remain unanswered.

Next thing I know, I fall through the floor.
The last thing I see before I hit the water below,
is that figure again even slender than before.
The last face I'll ever see,
is that faceless figure staring back at me.
The Slenderman.
Vyiirt'aan Dec 2017
The master called forth their students
To carve their names in stone
The eternal bond eroding the tablet
The cobble roaring and rolling
Along the beak of the mountain pass

The master chiseled their marks;
The students followed - their hammers
Slamming in unison, the sonorous ringing;
A symphony of erosion on the brittle plate

Elated by the performance, the stone screamed
It echoed through the valley

"Fear not", the master preached and turned to their students
"The bond of stone is as brittle as paper but holds our names for eternity"
They shackled a sevenfold amongst the surface and punctured the heavens

Glimmering in the sunlight, the incandescence of the molten stone
Passed through the iridium stakes - the fractured hammers

A carving of pain, created by the love the students held per desperation
Students of the broken stone, their efforts unspoken;
The mold of a statue of hope stood in eternity
Their love echoing through the valley
Graff1980 Oct 2016
Addiction makes me
a sick clown watching
a killer circus
filled with empty seats
and dead animals.

This wickedly twisted world
spins me around
like a broken carnival ride
that goes faster and faster.
While chuckling *******
wear plaster smiles
I sit sick and vomiting
spewing lines of black ink
half-truths obscured
by metaphors and similes.

The nightmare men
stare and grin at me
military twin to the police
wearing violence menacingly
strangling the landscape
with rubble, mace, mud,
glass, bullets, and blood.

I would wear goggles
to protect me from
their blood soaked insanity
but I prefer to look
with crystal clear
chlorine eyes
that burn
the very core of me.
Graff1980 Jul 2016
I am a sick *******
Sweet friend
Emotion fiend
Seeking stories
Wanting your
gorgeous pain
To hold
To harbor
The albatross
At the arbor
Flying to the dying ship
That weight around your neck
That anchors you to ****
That razor blade
You want to use to cut it
I am a vampire of sorrows
******* up injustice
Then spitting these flitting verses
Back out like sputum
So others can use them
To make us all more human
Though my wrists cramp with heartbreaks
I still write at night by lampshade
Sipping small vials of nightshade
Hoping to take your pain away
And plant posies with all that poison
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