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Words that don't remain with me.
Joined 1 August 2017


Words that don't remain with me.
Joined 1 August 2017
17 MAY 2021 AT 22:44

They say pain manifests poetry.
And art.
That its the birth giver of great Literature
And music.
I've seen pain turn people into poets
Some even into believers.
But does pain ever really turn into pages?
Does it go away word by word?
I guess what I am trying to say is;
While we have great poetry born out of pain
It still hurts all the same.

-


22 MAY 2020 AT 23:05

Officer Fritz pulled his hand out and in it was a medium-sized rectangular shaped box, covered in a white wrapping paper.

The roof looked like it was about to fall. The walls were screaming for help.



- Shlok, The Missing Shadow

-


10 MAY 2020 AT 18:52

close your eyes
and think.

do you feel lonely because
nobody messages you;
or because people YOU crave
attention from don't message you?

I am telling you.

live before you die.

-


1 MAY 2020 AT 21:42

When I was about to give up
A firefly came from nowhere
and landed on my fingertip.

magic.

I blinked once and it was gone
but it didn't matter

that moment changed everything
because I let go of the firefly
the magic

and it didn't matter.

-


30 APR 2020 AT 10:29

Today
as I wake up
I don't want to feel hopeful.

I just want to
revisit every possible dream
I've ever had
and burn them to ashes.

before

these demons -
mocking us

kill them for me.



©madeuptales





-


30 APR 2020 AT 6:54

we cling on to life
fight for it

kill for it.

life corrupts.


Death saves.




©madeuptales

-


30 APR 2020 AT 6:04

This time
I wish for a silent hug
I wish to be talked to.
I wish to be in company
A genuine smile

But I am lonely.
and dying.

maybe
it takes courage to live

But it's okay if you could not gather it.




©madeuptales

-


30 APR 2020 AT 0:47

That's what art does, it immortalizes.






©madeuptales

-


29 APR 2020 AT 22:57

when someone dies
it's the words that stay behind
sound of their voice echoes
in the void no one can fill.

it's true
the dead don't die.
all we have to do is

close our eyes.


- not made up.

-


28 APR 2020 AT 22:32

He couldn't write anymore

so
like an eel

he went crawling up to stories -
sucking them out of people
leaving behind carrion and bones

People became books.

their bodies rotted under the ground.
but true stories were never found.


©madeuptales

-


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