Struggle

Deceptive Embrace: Unmasking Love Bombing

23/7/20

In a realm of deceit, where shadows dance, 
There lies a tactic, a cruel romance.
Love bombing, it's called, a manipulative art,
A toxic allure, a deceitful sweetheart.

With honeyed words and gestures grand, 
They sweep you up in their cunning plan.
Like a whirlwind of affection, they draw you near, 
But beware, my friend, for danger lurks here.

They shower you with praise, a captivating spell,
Their affection overwhelms, like a sweet-scented swell.
They whisper promises, make you feel adored, 
But beneath the surface, a trap is carefully stored.

Love bombing, a facade, a twisted embrace, 
Designed to bind you in a tight, suffocating space.
Their affections, like petals, wilt and fade, 
Leaving you broken, vulnerable, betrayed.

Their love is a weapon, a manipulative game, 
To control your thoughts, your actions, your name.
They prey on your vulnerabilities, exploit your desire,
Leaving you lost, consumed by the fire.

But listen, dear heart, do not be swayed,
For love should be gentle, not a game to be played.
Recognize the signs, the false promises they bring, 
And break free from the chains of their insidious string

Hold onto your worth, your strength, and your voice, 
Don't let their love bombing drown out your choice.
In the face of their tactics, stand tall and strong, 
For true love is patient, it would never steer you wrong.

So, shield your heart, be cautious, be wise,
Don't let love bombing cloud your clear skies.
Find love that's authentic, built on trust and respect, 
And let manipulative tactics be forever in retrospect.
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

Charm’s Manipulative Dance

23/6/23
In golden words she weaves her tale, 
A charming guise, a captivating veil.
"I'm pretty and smart," her lips declare,
While her eyes gleam with a knowing stare.

With cunning grace, she dances the game,
A master of manipulation, her aims untamed.
Her smile, a weapon, disarms with ease,
As she weaves her web of sweet deceit.

But behind that smile, a darkness resides, 
A heart detached, where empathy hides.
Her words, like whispers, they beguile,
Yet truth eludes her calculating guile.

Beneath the surface, a dismissive air,
She dances with power, devoid of care.
Her laughter, a mask, conceals her intent,
Leaving others to wonder where loyalty went.
For those who trust, her presence divine,
Yet beware the allure of her beguiling design.
Her charm, a façade, a fleeting ruse,
Leaving hearts shattered, and souls confused.

Oh, pretty and smart, she claims to be,
But her actions speak louder, for all to see.
A puppeteer of emotions, she plays her part,
Leaving behind a trail of broken hearts.

So be wary, dear souls, of her captivating spell,
For beneath her beauty lies a tale to tell.
In her realm of manipulation, she may reign, 
But true connection, she can never attain.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

Immortal Warden

6/11/23

Prompt: The Immortal Warden

Oh, my misguided friend, make no mistake. This is no mere episode of corruption of my eternal conviction. I shall find no solace until I find my enemies writhing in agonizing pain beneath the pressure of my blade, begging for mercy amongst the bodies of their fallen brothers, regretting and ruining the day in which they crossed me. Which I shall deny them such mercy as death.

 

In shadows deep, where darkness dwells,
A figure stern, the immortal Warden, tells
Of battles fought with fiery might,
And enemies crushed in eternal night.

Oh, my misguided friend, he cries,
This corruption breeds no compromise.
With unwavering conviction, he stands tall,
Vowing vengeance, to make them fall.

No solace sought, no respite found,
Until his foes lie broken on the ground.
Beneath his blade, in pain they writhe,
their final Breaths, the price of their strive.

Begging for mercy, they'll tremble, they'll
plead,
Yet his heart of steel will pay no heed.
Amidst the fallen, their brothers lost,
Regret will consume them, a bitter cost.

For they dared to cross his righteous path,
Invoking the wrath pf this immortal's wrath.
No mercy granted, no release from life,
They'll taste the bitter edge of his strife.

Oh. Immortal Warden, relentless and true,
Your vengeance burns with a crimson hue.
Through battles waged, your legend's born,
A symphony of anguish, your enemies torn.

In the annals of time, your name shall be 
sung,
A mythic figure, with songs forever young.
For you are the guardian, unyielding,
unchained,
Forever marked, by the vengeance you've
attained.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

Regretful Denial of Love

Kell: Look I… I can’t care for you the way I care for her. You know…?

Bianca: I know.

Kell: “You know–” Then why do you hang out with me like this anyway? Why do you spend so much time with me…?

Bianca: Well. Because I care for you. Isn’t that reason enough?

(Video gets cut off)

Marcell: Do you regret your choice now? Denying her feelings like they meant nothing.

Kell: You think holding me here will bring her back from the grave?

Marcell: All you had to do was care for her even if it wasn’t real.

 

In the depths of our tangled hearts’ maze,
Where love and longing intertwined,
A fragile dance of souls ablaze,
Two paths diverged, destinies assigned.

Kell, tormented by a love untamed,
His heart divided, pulled apart,
Could not reciprocate as Bianca claimed,
For another held his beating heart.

“I can’t care for you,” he softly spoke,
His voice laden with sorrow’s weight,
A confession that left their spirits broke,
Their bond tested, strained by fate.

Bianca, aware of his conflicted plight,
Accepted his truth with grace profound,
In her heart, a flickering light,
For Kell, her friendship did resound.

“Why do you stay?” he pleaded, distressed,
Seeking solace in her tender reply,
“I care for you,” she gently professed,
A reason pure, no question of why.

But regret loomed heavy in Marcell’s eyes,
As he observed the choices made,
He saw the pain, the love denied,
The consequences that wouldn’t fade.

“Do you regret?” Marcell asked, accusation in his tone,
Denying her feelings, like petals withered away,
He hoped to awaken what was overthrown,
To find redemption in love’s array.

But Kell’s response was resolute, yet bleak,
“Holding me here won’t revive what’s lost,
Even if I pretended, my heart wouldn’t speak,
Love can’t be forced at any cost.”

So Marcell, with pen in hand, crafted a verse,
An elegy for love’s shattered refrain,
A poem to capture the pain and curse,
Of hearts entangled, love’s bittersweet domain.

In the realm of words, he wove their tale,
Of Kell and Bianca, a bond misunderstood,
A tragedy of hearts destined to fail,
And the lessons learned in love’s tangled wood.

 

Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

Whispers of Resilience: A Battle Against Social Anxiety

 Prompt: Social Anxiety

Prompt convo: (Mara's Inner Dialogue in quotations)
"This is my stop. I should get ready."
"Just say it!"
(Whispers) "Excuse me?"
(A feeling of everyone watching her)
"What's with that look?"
"Please speak. SPEAK!"
"Why are they getting close?"
"Did I say something wrong?"
"I can't.."
"It's ruining my life."


In the depths of Mara's troubled mind,
A battle fierce, she tries to find,
Her heart constricts, her breath is caught,
Social anxiety, a fearsome thought.

"This is my stop. I should get ready,"
She whispers softly, feeling unsteady.
"Just say it!" her inner voice demands,
But courage falters in trembling hands.

"Excuse me?" escapes her lips so meek,
A voice so fragile, barely a squeak.
Yet in her mind, a symphony resounds,
The feeling of eyes, a weight that surrounds.

"What's with that look?" she wonders in 
fear,
A gaze, a judgment, cutting and sheer.
"Please speak. SPEAK!" her spirit cries,
But anxiety's grip, it never denies.

"Why are they getting close?" she frets,
A crowd encroaching, her mind besets.
"Did I say something wrong?" she ponders,
Her thoughts spinning in anxious wonders.

"I can't," she thinks, defeated and worn,
As confidence withers, her spirit torn.
"It's ruining my life," she mourns within,
A silent struggle, a battle to win.

But let us not despair in Mara's plight,
For strength can be found in darkest night.
Through empathy's touch and 
compassion's grace,
A poem now weaves, an embrace takes 
place.

To Mara, we offer solace and light,
A reminder that battles can yield to flight.
In unity, we stand, hearts intertwined,
For social anxiety, we shall unbind.

With patience and love, let's lend an ear,
To those whose whispers are tinged with 
fear.
Through understanding, let kindness reign,
In Mara's struggle, a hope we sustain.

For in her journey, she'll find her voice,
Breaking free from anxiety's choice.
And as she blossoms, brave and strong,
Her spirit soars, a triumph song.

So let us stand as one, hand in hand,
Supporting each other, a united band.
For in this poem, Mara's tale unfolds,
A testament of courage, yet untold.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment