#poetrywithteeth
From the moment the first brick touched the ground,
the earth shivered beneath it — it made no solid sound.
For no kingdom built on secrets, on shadows, on sin
can stand strong or steady when deceit lies within.
You called it love, you called it fate,
but every vow was just a mask you’d later recreate.
Walls made of excuses, windows fogged with fear,
a castle of illusions you refused to see clear.
A kingdom of lies from the very first day —
that’s the throne you chased, that’s the price you pay.
You wanted royalty so bad you ignored every sign,
thinking a borrowed crown could ever truly shine.
You stepped in blind, never checking the foundation,
believing every story, every false declaration.
You held his sins like scripture, wore his wounds like art,
built a home from broken pieces and called it a brand-new start.
But now the kingdom you worshipped with unshaken trust
is collapsing around you, turning gold into dust.
The crown you claimed is cracking, the throne beneath you shakes,
for nothing born of falsehood survives the truth when it wakes.
You can’t build a life on lies, nor rise from stolen ground —
you can’t stand tall in ruins expecting peace to be found.
What you inherited was chaos, a prophecy unraveling slow,
a fairytale rewritten into the harshest truth you’ll ever know.
And me? I walked away from wreckage, rose from every scar,
built a kingdom made of healing — no shadows, no war.
A throne forged in resilience, a crown washed clean,
a life aligned with God, with light, with things unseen.
Let the record speak clearly, let the truth remain:
you fought for a kingdom of lies — I rose from its pain.
What crushed you became my calling, what trapped you set me free;
I became the truth your castle would never let you be.
Nov 26, 2025
Nov 26, 2025 at 10:28 AM UTC
God smiles. The devil always laughs— in a world where one
man can be a hero to all, but never a hero to themselves. But life
is life, and that’s something we all have to live. Growing ****
for hands, doing your best to explain all of life’s noisy jazz.
Improvising grace with filthy tools, sculpting silence from
the din. Finding gains from feeding peas to peace— small
offerings to vast ideals. But we’re all just boiling in the ***
seasoned with hope, too numb to scream it all out.
Guess I’ll be filming a field of angels, watching them grow
into a movie I’ll never get to see. Faith on reel, a fate unreleased.
Goodness is easier when it’s clinical; cut, clean, and color-coded.
But look too closely, and even virtue starts to rot under the
microscope. But good to know most prefer playing doctor
to ever being a patient— yet none of them have the patience.
It's just one's self-diagnosis without much reflection.
__Guaranteed__: casual racists smiling their remarks so sweetly
that even the laughter sounds like applause. But I less applaud
for I’m more appalled – but we all live in a world.
Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 6:01 AM UTC
You can hold me —
but only with open hands.
You can call me —
but only with a voice soft enough
to leave my name free in the wind.
Control once broke me.
Chains once fooled me.
But I’ve rebuilt my soul
with scorched truth
and stubborn fire.
So trap me again, if you must —
but only with love.
Only with warmth.
Only with the kind of touch
that frees
while holding tight.
Because I will never kneel
to anything less
than love.
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC