"horcrux" poems
Rest in peace to all the brave gryffindors
The courageous ones with hearts that soar
Rest in peace to all the smart ravenclaws
You left this generation in intelligent awe
Rest in peace to all the clever slytherin
without you, many of us wouldn't grin
Rest in peace to all the kind hufflepuff
I know our journey was tough
Avada kedavra to the other sort
Crucio on voldermort
imperious on the non deluxe
Destroy all of the horcrux
Shortlived were the cohorts
That tried to defeat hogwarts
we thank you
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
When you know you've lived
the exact present you're living now before,
doesn't it make sense to think of it as though...
there is another part of you in another universe,
going through the same thing?
I believe in the multiverse theory,
for I cannot prove that we are not alone.
I believe there is a reason why
I feel the skies talk to me every night.
I believe someone's message is reaching me
through the beams of the moon every night.
My skin seeps it in
like a flower knows to bloom.
Ever think of a time difference
between one universe and the other?
What if we are born here on Earth and after we die,
our soul travels to another universe
and relives the same story?
What if...
we are a horcrux of our own soul
which is split up and placed
in different universes?
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 1:13 AM UTC
The words she scribbled
were not about her
but still
they concealed a part of her soul
because
they were her horcrux !!
For all her life
she waited for someone
who'd read all
of her writings
to find her pieces
and put them together
to make her whole
but no one ever tried
so she lived
entrapped in her
horcruxes
as a prisoner of immortality !!
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Your belongings (be)long to/for the materialist of Earth.
Your memories belong in the cradle of the hands of time.
Your talents belong in the rucksack of circumstance.
Your friends and family are shadows on the pavement
of the path you travelled.
Your lover belongs in the warmth of your heart.
Your bones belong with the typhoon of dust.
Your soul belongs in God's horcrux.
Your moments.
That's all that's ever yours.
Moments.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
I visited that site today,
where all our memories are laid
I don't know why but I miss it somehow
I guess I just can't forget
I guess you never taught me how
Sometimes I wish we never met
But all is well now, I suppose
All is good for me and you
We have adapted to all our losses
I hope you have beautiful days, too
I am okay, if you really care
That was how you left me
Those were your last words
You said your soul is torn
You said I was a horcrux of yours
You told me you hated that you still think of me,
You still cry for your forever
You keep all my letters,
all the stuffed toys and little things
It smells like me
You remember my touch,
and all of it still lingers
It reminds you of innocence
and all the bad days
It reminds you of me,
your longest fling.
You used to remember my lips when you kissed hers
I pitied her at some point
She didn't deserve a love like that
But who am I to care about you two
You didn't even care when you inflicted pain on me
I guess our doors are closed
You say we are in good terms like we had a negotiation
It was nice until it lasted
Lately I found out that
God made another one of you
to love me better than you ever will
All is well now, I suppose
All too well, I guarantee.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
My mother was a patch of smudged ink on
his arm, skin yet to close after being lasered
by the dermatologist. What were you thinking?
she had said to him before, and he answered
I love you, and as she touched herself
prodding her comical mouth with a finger
her shadows tenderly seeping into his pores
making her more vivid. Each time I’d see
my father pointing a knife at her, at her
smile wanting to tear it off. And I was his
death eater, quick to sew my mother shut
and burn her before she causes too much
damage. Then father would touch my
face as if he’s now seeing clearly through
the tears that clog his serpent eyes. How
in this chamber of secrets we dance
in a ballroom tiled with his pain. And I
was wearing ice slippers, his frozen tears
leaving a wet trail that clouds this rib vault
where our steps are quiet, where father I am
Yours,
your horcrux.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Once I start writing I can never stop.
It's like birth, once you start breathing,
You can never stop.
It's like drugs, once you start using,
You can never stop.
It's like love, once you start loving,
You can never stop.
It's like dying, once you start dying, you can never stop.
Writing is like birth, a new beginning, a blank page a fresh start.
Writing is like a drug, addticting, making me see alternate universes and strange creatures,
Writing is like love, there once was a Romeo and a Juliet. And they lived happily ever after.
Writing is like dying, with each page that's bleeding ink, you seal a little but more of your soul onto the page. A different kind of horcrux,
One that cannot be broken.
It's written in blood, in ink, in thoughts and dreams.
In life and death
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Within the fires are the spirits
The gong upon our anvil
As such arms can only be made in Heaven.
Of various persons each known to his part
Distinct are the Poet and the Dreamer
And so I was Gods ape,
Piety so chaste
I hold it half a sin
Entering the cold broken world
Thus Adam lamented to himself aloud.
"No coward soul is mine
What will come at last too soon
For honour bit-wize travels
Unwinking on this fair ship 'Life'".
But there was resistance involved
The swift blazing flag of regiment
As bare as a birds tail
To make a clean breast
The iron entered my soul.
I pray you
The earthly bribble-brabble
A veil for the glory of Angels
Lest evil tidings to utter
To turn and face them
And see ones self
Not to be lost but by the makers hand.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
You split my soul in seven
Like a real life horcrux
My soul is attached to objects
That we have both grown to love
You split my soul in seven
Like you are a real life Voldemort
Tragically forgetting
That death indeed can be a blessing
Ascending us to heaven
You split my soul in seven
Like a real life horcrux
Now I am bound for eternity
Pondering your sickening depravity
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 12:55 PM UTC
With every morning, a new hope does rise
Only to suffer the most untimely demise
Time flies by, getting closer to the days when all would be gone
And only memories would be extant to count upon
I sense a devastating tempest coming to haunt
A storm, wild enough, to exterminate the most entrenched roots
Only if the truth could have worked to alleviate the misery
But letting it out would only be a treachery
Absconding into dreams and leaving the reality behind is a part of the routine
The reality suffocating the very basis of my existence is the whole scene
When the wall of my patience does fall apart,
And melancholy fills the chasm to the brim in my heart
Like a horcrux, I'd break apart.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
I love your stories.
Happy. Sad. Confusing.
Secrets. Fairy tales. Tell-all.
Drunk or not.
Truth or lies.
I don't care.
I love hearing your stories.
I love looking into your eyes and sees the fire slowly burning.
With a flame that ignites the moment your mouth started to utter.
I love how you look for my gasps when your words fall.
I love hearing your stories.
It's like being your horcrux.
Like some part of your soul is hidden on me.
Dark maybe, but something treasured.
-E.T.E-
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC
I was created by Him
and in turn will become a vessel for His creation
Half of you was born the same time I was
Grew up with me
Lived a whole life with me
Held on long enough
To the insides of my womaness
to one day look at me
And I love you for it
I have loved you before it
You will never need to earn this love
It is always here
never will you have to climb a mountain
or reduce your hurt
or love of life
It’s here for your taking
Your needing
Your feeding
Here for you even to throw away
The love I preserve for you
Does not live in my heart
Or in my being
Cause if it did
It will die the same time as I will
I will love you even after the fact
No matter the suns position
This love follows you closer than your shadow could ever hope to
Closer than the love you have for yourself
Almost as close as the one your Lord keeps for you
It exists always
On days that I do not like you
I love you
When you hurt me
I can’t help it than to
Remember I’d rather be hurt by you
than
If you weren’t able to hurt me at all
I have seen My Mother fall
Past sadness itself
And find residence
atop the brittle canopy of grief
Surrounded by an abandoned museum
Of bottles, blankets, bedding and expired milk
Finding her on some nights
Curled up in a ball of herself
After prayer
Giving thanks to Allah for the chance at another
And the health of her others
And then losing her again at Fajr
When the heaviness of her *******
Remind her
Return her inside another agonizing re-run
An itinerary of loss
Beginning, middle and end all blurred
Like someone slowly dragged their ***** unkind hand across a wet painting
Whose colors had not yet held firm
Whose picture had not yet formed
Who itself was not ready to be displayed
I bet she thought of all the care
she could not give
and wishes so fiercely that she had
And the surplus of love
That now goes unneeded
Feeds no one
Like an ocean of salt water
Near a people dying of thirst
This scares me the most
You are my protection from this sadness
And I love you for it
I have loved you before it
You too are a vessel that carries,
A horcrux
For all the love I hold for myself
I give to you
Even after you are no longer a clean slate
Even after you have sinned a thousand times over
Both villain and hero
You are my unborn best friend
Best decision yet to be made
Best part of me that I cannot wait to one day
Share this poem with
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 3:48 AM UTC
Never ask..
you will be given..
Never say
You will be understood..
Never cry
You wil be pacified..
Never show
You will be loved...
Such passion of being with you idiots means ectasy ..
The moment u leave.. left the part of mine with u..
Horcrux is not real as far not met with u people ..
Writing memo to god..
Let it not become Memories..
Real time is all regrets...
Nostalgia knocks at the nook corner of labtab being..
Throwback throws back the untiring tidy moments..
Entire world enacts the reflection of urs..
Friend the moment with u should never end...
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
----
Ghostfaced overkillah/
I put the sin in sincerity/
Cast the last million stones/
Let’s rock like ***** & GOMORRAH/
Birdman, on the windowsill/
Launch a nuclear war/
Head on fire – NEVER LOOK BACK/
Running with scissorhands, blunted/
Wet paperbag gloves/
Chasing serpent tail forever/
So caught up in yourself, that/
You didn’t notice the climate change/
Sweating ice in a feverdream/
Friends & family are gone/
You’re all alone... THIS IS MANIA/
Shattered nerve clusterbomb/
My primary emotion is sadness/
Disguised as anger; explosive synapses/
Living in an elephant graveyard/
I snap like Thanos, and don’t marvel/
Verse as horcrux/
TATTERED SOUL JOURNALIST/
Stitching together a forked tongue/
Forcing my demons to talk “normal”/
It just sounds so unnatural/
And the voices are NOT HAPPY/
I didn’t listen for one month/
But prepared an epic mudbath/
Purification is a holiday/
Get out of rehab/
Go straight to the crackhouse.../
I’M NOT GONNA FAKE IT/
JUST TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER/
I’M NOT GONNA FAKE IT/
JUST TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER/
I’M NOT GONNA FAKE IT/
JUST TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER/
I’m a failure; thanks for asking/
Keeping it real is mad expensive/
And I’m broke./
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 6:35 AM UTC
Months and weeks consume us as our feet drag in the slowest of shuffles. I've worried for years about my personality and if that's what gets me in the trouble I'm in. Thankfully I have nothing left to worry about, as my thoughts have been more than confirmed. I've infected and emotionally crippled the people I've come into contact with and abandoned, and I'm shocked? I've felt like a horcrux every individual day of my life. And what have I done to change? What can I? How does it take 21 years for a person to develop the ability to recognize their actions and yet still not their face? I feel uneducated about anything to do with myself after over a year of carving myself out until now, I'm more than hollow. I am non-existent, waiting for someone to pick up my crumbling existence and blow it away like dandelion fluff.
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 6:23 PM UTC