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Literature Text
HEL
Ungrounded, floating on the whispers of a memory,
Secretly kindling the tantrums of one’s victory.
Faint yet chaotic render of pure rage tapping, striking,
A symphony of fire, a sonata of the land burning.
Hel is thy mistress, ruling the maddening underworld,
Leisure in your rotting vessel, a ritual for the undefeated Gods.
Hel, gazing upon your flesh, your tormented world.
Calling upon thy reclining faith from a river following the odds.
Yet still ungrounded, still balancing on the edge of a ripping tapestry.
An emblazing relic digging in your palm, between blood and atrophy,
Runic treasures and charms hidden under your broken armor,
Hailing her Cimmerian name, at last lifting the valiant Hammer.
Literature
In The Snowfall
In The Snowfall
I remember it
As if it was just last night
Our surroundings were lit
Illuminated by the surfaces covered in white
The way you smiled
It gave me comfort inside
And my heart seemed to be veiled
Knowing you have become a part of my life
-
Step by step
I stopped blinking
As we tread
I ceased breathing
Chills were sent
Our hands touching
Our lips met
Gazing at you is a must
You curiously peered up
As snowflakes danced down towards us
And it dawned on me that I was madly in love
Mesmerizing my soul
Spreading a calming warmth
Into my core
I held you in my arms
I felt whole
Connected our hearts
Alone no more
-
With
Literature
We Died Here..
It ended here. And I would've loved you forever, but forever came sooner than we ever could've imagined.
I couldn't take you down with me. You were my first, and now I'll be your last.
The beginning of the end happened here.
I can see the outline of your body buried in the ceiling,
As the windows begin to run red.
I miss the touch of your hand against my skin,
Even when it was always only cold.
I was just never any good at killing this feeling, so I hid it in the floor.
Now I feel you watch me from the walls.
The ghost of your breath sends shivers down my neck.
You whispered to me as I slept, "Forever is where it all goes wrong."
It echoes
Literature
In Hindsight
I'm not ready to meet you yet,
I need to have a mental breakdown
Or two
That I'd rather you didn't see.
You can meet me down the road
When my mess is just a story,
Part of my mysteriously alluring past
Not the painfully present now
It will seem so romantic,
My idealised mental anguish,
When you don't have to deal with it
Day after day
I'm sorry to tell you,
But please come back later
When I'm a bit saner
And you somewhat braver
And both a lot easier to love.
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Comments57
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huh.
This actually almost perfectly translates into the epic poetry format the Norse used to immortalize their pantheon.
Also, no one remembers poor Hel, doomed to die forever.
Your meter is wonderful. Your rhyming is scintillating.
This actually almost perfectly translates into the epic poetry format the Norse used to immortalize their pantheon.
Also, no one remembers poor Hel, doomed to die forever.
Your meter is wonderful. Your rhyming is scintillating.