Candle-lit - poem

Drench in fuel,

Light the flame,

Burn in all your glory,

You will set the world aflame,

The Crooks of Her Palm - poem

I often confuse anger with protection,

Bloodied wounds filled with with the same salty seas that caress my cheek,

I don't clench my fists in fury, I let them be held,

They should feel my lust for bloodshed,

But there will be no red-ribboned fate that binds us together,

There will be no eternal thread that is sewn into us by the pinkie,

There will be no person that will stay if I prolong with a heart full of restless rage and inevitable regret,

I am well versed in cruelty, though I crave the sympathy I cannot give,

I am born of the waves, fuelled by the seas,

Salt in my eyes,

Restless pleas

Its at your feet I kneel - poem

It's highly probable that the soil was made for you to grow,

That god spewed the fountains and waterfalls to quench your thirst,

The sun sings songs just to kiss your pale cheeks,

The breeze strings your hair,

Thinning it to pieces to steal because you’re to be preserved,

The world was built by god himself,

His heavenly body must’ve felt you deserving,

It was at your life, the birth of all of us,

I owe you my goddamn life

Limited - poem

He held her neck to choke her words,

She shook off the debris and dust that made him hers,

With limbs entwined,

And starlight kisses,

His lips were my telescope to the far off galaxies of truth,

Of the meteors I pray hit us,

Of the sun that never set,

I was with them all until i tumbled down to earth's core,

Aware of my mortality,

As he let us go,

Oh, to fall in love and come out bruised and burnt

Pain, Fear, Fury - poem

 My pain is what I paint,

My pain is my muse that cries it's tears onto the canvas,

Fear is what breeds in me,

Its grows its vines, looping round my very heart,

My fury is what I become,

The rage that lights the flame, I spread throughout,

But at least,

At Least with all of this,

I have something to keep for myself,

I can live with this if it means i'll create,

If it means my murals will meet with fate and my destiny will become my desired hopes,

At Least I can live with myself without wishing to be someone else,

My pain is my uniqueness, yours is your weakness.

Bound by war - poem

 Bound by war,

I stay stagnant,

I stay prisoner to the dark edges of my mind,

Withered poppies, painted a red that bleeds,

My heart now ice,

Void of joy, brimming with agony,

My tempest of torment,

I am woven shut,

I have been killed,

But groped of the joy of not feeling,

Dampen the Vibrance for it isnt yours to conceal - poem

As she drowned in the unforgiving sunlight,

She ran to the moon,

Her orbs turned jet,

Yet she spoke through the bleak,

Blinded by the purity,

By confinement,

She spoke in colour once more,

But who sees joy for another as joy for themselves?

Burn her at the stake once more,

Paint her grey