Strength

Victim of DA-Gaslighting

23/10/16

 

Why are you trying to make me seem crazy,
With every word and gesture, sly and hazy?
You twist the truth and distort the facts,
In this gaslit world, I struggle to relax.

You undermine my thoughts, my feelings, my worth,
A victim of your gaslighting since my birth.
But I won't let your deceit define my fate,
I'll reclaim my truth and break free from this state.

I'll hold on to my sanity, thought you try to steal,
In this poem, my strength and resolve, I'll reveal.
No longer your pawn, I'll break these chains,
In the face of your lies, my spirit remains.

Through the webs of deceit, I tread the road,
In the shadows of Manipulation, my truth untold.
With every lie, a story unfolds,
In this gaslit world, my spirit, they'd behold.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

Art vs Expectations

In a world where dreams were cast aside,
My artistic fire began to hide.
The people around me, their doubts grew strong,
"Study harder, child, don't you want to belong?"

Ambitions suppressed, I followed their lead,
Achieving straight A's, fulfilling their creed.
But empty was my heart, devoid of delight, 
For I craved the canvas, the colors so bright.

High school arrived, my facade crumbled fast,
Grades slipped away, like grains in an hourglass.
Yet within the chaos, a spark reappeared, 
1 picked up my pencil, my passion revered.

Years lost, creativity held in chains, 
But I embraced art, despite the pains.
And amidst the struggle, a glimmer of hope, 
For my mother's support, like a lifeline, she'd rope.

Yet weary I grew, tired of pretense,
Of family's false pride, their shallow defense.
Demanding my work, their voices would persist, 
But their words felt hollow, a mocking twist.

So now I break free, from their expectations,
Seeking my path, defying frustrations.
For art is my essence, my soul's sweet release,
Not measured by praise or societal peace.

I'll paint with resilience, my spirit aflame,
With strokes of passion, I'II etch my own name.
No longer bound by their doubtful embrace,
I'll forge my own destiny, in colors I trace.

For true fulfillment lies in following my heart,
In art's vast canvas, I'll find my true art.
No more seeking validation or lies to appease,
I’ll paint my own masterpiece, my soul's masterpiece.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

Warriors Echo

23/7/4

Version 1

In the depths of battle's fiery embrace,
A voice awakens, relentless in peace.
Whispering secrets, urging me to stand,
To wield my weapon with unwavering hand.

Inside my soul, it echoes with might,
A call to arms, dispelling all fright.
No matter the damage, my body may bear,
I press forward, fueled by an eternal flare.

The voice resounds, a steadfast guide,
Through the darkest hours, it won't subside.
Leaking blood, a small cost to endure,
For victory's taste, so sweet and pure.

Even when my functions begin to wane,
The voice declares I shall rise again,
A warrior's spirit, undying and strong,
To fulfill my purpose, where I belong.

For in this symphony of chaos and strife,
I march ahead, embracing this life.
The voice, my anthem, forever rings true,
Inspiring valor, forging me anew.

So heed this tale of the voice within,
Embrace its fervor, let the battle begin.
For warriors arise, unyielding, and brave,
Till the final victory, their souls shall engrave.

Version 2

In the depths of battle's hellish blaze,
A voice emerges, harsh and bleak,
Whispering curses, compelling me to stay,
To brandish my weapon with despairing streak.
Within my soul, it howls with dread,
A call to arms, sowing seeds of dread.
No matter the torment, my body may face,
I trudge onward, burdened by relentless pace.

The voice resounds, an unwavering guide,
Through the blackest hours, refusing to hide.
Spilling blood, a sacrifice I endure,
For victory's semblance, obscured and impure.

Even as my essence begins to decay,
The voice insists I shall rise, decayed and frayed,
A warrior's ghost, unyielding and grim,
To fulfill my purpose, where life grows dim.

For in this discordant symphony of pain,
I march ahead, embracing my own disdain.
The voice, my requiem, ceaselessly screams,
Injecting valor, tearing at my seams.

So heed this chronicle of the voice inside,
Embrace its torment, let the battle collide.
For warriors emerge, unyielding, yet drenched,
Till the final slaughter, their souls eternally quenched.
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Unbeatable Insanity’s Me

Prompt: (Female) Veratine, Goddess Of The Insane

Prompt statement:

“I’m unbeatable. I can’t be beaten. My insanity makes such things impossible. You can condemn me. You can damage me. (menacing smile as the blood drip from her eyes) You never ever going to beat me.”

In realms untamed, where darkness dwells,
There reigns a goddess, Veratine she tells,
A tempest wild, her mind’s domain,
Unleashing madness, driving mortals
insane.

With maddened laughter, her voice does
ring,
A symphony of chaos, an unholy hymn she
sings,
Her presence fierce, a tempestuous storm,
Defying reason, defying all norms.

“I’m unbeatable,” she proclaims with pride,
A twisted grin, blood tears she cannot hide,
Her sanity shattered, a shattered glass,
She revels in madness, her dominion to
amass.

Condemn her, wound her, try as you may,
Her spirit untamed, it refuses to sway,
For insanity is her armor, her shield,
In its depths, her power concealed.

With every step, she dances on the edge,
Where darkness and light forever pledge,
A malevolent force, she weaves her art,
Binding souls, tearing worlds apart.

Beware, mortals, when her gaze meets
yours,
Her eyes aflame, a madness that endures,
For in her realm, your reason will fray,
Lost in her labyrinth, forever to stay.

She dares you to challenge, to face her
might,
Yet victory eludes, vanishing from sight,
For her insanity, a cloak so profound,
In its depths, true strength is found.

So, tremble in awe, before her divine,
Veratine, the goddess, her essence malign,
For she cannot be beaten, she cannot be
tamed,
In her chaotic realm, her power remains
untamed.

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Darkness Defied

Prompt: Monologue

Bictan God of Death: Fall. You are alone, child. There is only Darkness you…And only DEATH to your people. I will command a Great and terrible Army. And we will Sail until every light has been extinguished. You are strong Child. But I am beyond Strength. I AM THE END!!

 

In shadows deep, where darkness thrives,
Bictan God of Death arrives,
His voice a tempest, fierce and loud,
A monologue that strikes, unbowed.

“Fall,” he whispers, to the weary soul,
Alone, adrift, in darkness’ control,
No ray of hope, no glimmer bright,
Only death’s grip, a fearsome blight.

He claims dominion, over the land,
Commanding armies at his command,
A great and terrible force unleashed,
To snuff out every light, a feast.

But child, fear not, for you are strong,
In the face of darkness, you belong,
Though he may boast, beyond all might,
You hold the power, burning bright.

The end he claims, an empty guise,
For you possess what never dies,
A spark within, a soul aflame,
Against his wrath, you’ll stake your claim.

This monologue of doom and dread,
Shall be transformed to verse instead,
In poetry’s embrace, a glimmer found,
Defying darkness, love profound.

So let him sail, with all his might,
For in your heart, a guiding light,
His grandest plans, they shall not rend,
As long as love’s anthem, you defend.

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