#romanticism
I was very sure and believed in my wit
Before got tricked by a lady who
awakened my suppressed emotions, made my mind sit
Alas! she has the eyes of brownest hue
And her obsession with godless freedom
Imprisoned countless of her imagination
She,indeed, fooled by a trickster on random
Only I, do claim to bring an absolute salvation
I shall teach you my lady! maybe I shoot you with my arrow
or wait you at the peak of mount olympius
But dare not I if thee not know thy borrow
Good heavens! I desire not ending as Prometheus
So will I liberate thee, denonunce the Helen's beauty
Eve! that's the name which wandering my heart heavenly
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 1:35 PM UTC
Content warning: this poem explores themes of deep depression and toxicity.
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Sweetheart,
I remember you saying you want to die
So I called the angels
They are waiting for you outside.
If to leave is what you greatly wish,
Then to leave you will get.
Even if it stings me.
Even if I won't find purpose with you gone.
Even if I'll end up not wanting to continue myself.
But I will fulfill your dream
Because I can't bear life with your nagging of wanting to leave.
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 7:09 AM UTC
True,
They say of love.
For a sight of thee is all I long
I long from dusk till dawn
Your sound I carry on
In my fragile heart
Since the very day you sang a song
In a plea my tears shatter
For once then, and now-
It's only you who matter.
Forgotten have I myself
Or have I remembered you for so long,
In laughs, cries, and moments forlorn
It's you , you, and you I mourn.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 12:23 AM UTC
There is a lighthouse in the heart.
With truth as keeper guiding rays.
Its stands a beacon in the dark
So ships can steer from siren waves–
For sweet are maelstroms but in name
Yet twist the surface from the light
Around a swimming host of shade
That swallows ships inside the night.
There is a beacon in that dark,
It stands a lighthouse in the heart.
But ships so blinded by the bow
Will find a gilded muse in tears
Submerged below the ocean now
Just as the stern begins to rear.
The torrents strip the planks and hull
Of memories and tales unknown
‘Til all that’s left remains a skull
That sits upon an empty throne.
There is a beacon in that dark,
Just heed the lighthouse in the heart–
Her whispers ride o’er winds and storm,
Resound the depths this somber song
That you recall the voyage home–
“Remember, my love, thou art strong.”
Of lips that bleed forgotten lore
The muse shall stop for naught but breath
Until her captain comes ashore
Or meets a true Romantic’s death–
There is a lighthouse in the dark.
It stands a beacon in your heart.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 10:05 AM UTC
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
Upon the velvet shroud of night, where silvered shadows weep and blight,
I wander through the hollow halls and tap-tap-tap upon the door—
The door of silent memories where the ghosts of love encore,
Nameless here for evermore.
Oh, the cruel and gilded anguish! In this gloom my soul shall languish,
For to love a thing of mortal dust is but to love a shore—
A shore where starlit eyes must fade, within the deep and dismal shade,
Where beauty is a fleeting breath—a rose the fires of Time devour,
Consuming all the mortal heart with its soul-consuming power,
Darkness there and nothing more.
Raven wings of midnight beating, while the pulse of life is fleeting,
Against the rusted shuttered pane, where salt and falling rain outpour;
But in this gloom a web is spun, more radiant than the living sun,
For love is never half so fair as when it haunts the marble floor—
In sepulchers of ebony where lonely spirits keep their lore,
Gone to the distant, Aidenn shore.
Let the bells of iron tolling, keep the heavy vapors rolling,
There is nectar found in grieving—majesty within the core;
I shall wed the dark and shroud, beneath the heavy, leaden cloud,
For death has made a timeless queen of the ghost I must adore—
The lost and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Quoth the spirit, "Nevermore."
KiddMysticc
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 1:31 PM UTC
Afore the storm of fractals wave,
Spinning alone beyond Colour’s grave;
For Black hath begun and Black hath began,
Every shade dull as the desert sand.
Until a light hath shone upon Nature’s back—
The Storm in formation is also Black;
A shame to the Senses where Cinnabar formed,
The Kaleidoscope shifting as Red is the lore;
Deep as the blood-pulse the colour runs rampant,
Rage and the Pain—and the Gain of the second—
Dulling away to a crimson swirl—
Red is the bloom of a putrid boil.
Till nary a tick is left to turn,
The Cylinder stops and the Eye is burned;
Not torn into sheets by geometric bustle,
Red bleeds to Black—the Void is a puzzle.
Black bleeds to Green—Nature’s emerald sheen,
Verdant growth rising—the Kaleidoscope seen.
Shifting of pieces paints a Viridian world,
The Earth but a canvas in rotational swirl.
For Beryl-streaks bleed betwixt geometric shapes,
With every flinch comes a gamble of Faith;
Till Darkness descends and the Green is struck mute,
Shadows collapse and the Memory is moot.
As the Great Mother claims the finality of turn,
Green bleeds to Black and the Nature-dream burns,
Replaced by the haunting of nightmare-glare,
Absent the Sun and the radiant air.
Azure-streaks wroth in the oceanic seas,
White-capped froth for the stimulating need;
Cerulean angels in Pythagorean angles,
A tangle betwixt the celestial metals
Which shine a cold Blue upon yonder shores,
Where every spin wheels the lines to adore.
A Lapis crown fading away to the Void,
Black again beckoning—the Spirit annoyed;
Cobalt-blued steel fading into the fray,
Blue bleeds to Black at the end of the day.
The Great Mother welding the Kaleidoscope scope—
Emptiness offering Her the only hope.
Gilded Ochre—a cemented facade,
The Yellow of Sun but a flickering nod
To the Day that is brighter than hollows of Night;
Saffron-gold bangles dangle in sight.
For bright is the colour that lights all below,
Brass-beams trimming the seams for the flow.
Beyond the light of the morning’s first rise,
A Sallow Centaur, godly in size;
As clouds begin filling the Firmament,
The lurid glare clicks in a simple contentment.
As Amber fills up the darkening horizon,
Yellow bleeds to Black on the back of a Diamond,
Whose facets shift with the weight of the Sin;
The Kaleidoscope echoes again and again.
Tyrian dyes stain the Emperor’s descent,
Imperial Purples dance with confident intent;
Where Power doth bask in a heritage pure,
Ametrine dreams highlight the cure.
A destiny deemed fully replete,
The colour of Gods—their honour to meet;
As the gears rotate and the moment shifts—
Once to a Caesar the Senate-grip slips.
Where Vitreous glass begins filling the senses,
Heliotropic visions form the Violet image;
As Purple bleeds Black and the Void is in sight,
An emptiness rivaling the blackest of Night.
Brought back to Center as the Cylinder clicks:
A Kaleidoscope of Power—every colour to mix.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 4:40 PM UTC