Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Euthenics is the slender reed of hope or recovery. Pretty visitors adept at taking what should be morose and converting it into something resplendent.
The days are lonely
And the nights are cold
And I miss your gentle touch
And I think about you and
Every night s shed a tear thinking about you and
You were my lover and my
Best friend and I truly miss you and
you were my everything in life and I'm lost without you and I'll never stop thinking about you because I will always and forever love and miss you.
Always Thinking About You ❤️
Jess 13h
These thoughts
so dark
These visions
so bright
One cannot exist
without the other in line
Like the stars that shine
through empty space
Don't  you  see  it?
The
D u a l i t y
Of
L i f e
The
B a l a n c e
Of
L i f e
We hold the key
To destroy
To create
But to wield
such power
Who are we and
Who are

You
And that is the Journey of life. To find who we are, or rather, to remember who we are.
The stars shine in a vast nothingness.
the heat creates light and form, and with the right mix...eventually you get...life.
If there is no meaning, then what's the point?
Randomness breeds Nihilism.
And that breeds despair along with all of it's cousins,
creating a chain reaction.
As within, so Without. As above, So below.

We are responsible for what we create, weather we know it or not.

Artists create through pain, but also create through joy and love. We have intense emotions. They are both a gift and a curse.
We have the ability to transmute.
Everyone does in some way.
I think therefore I am. I speak, therefore I create.
What you think creates the world you live in. What you speak forms it into existence.
How we use it is up to us.
There is a blessing in every curse
and a curse in every blessing.
Otherwise, how would we know anything without it's opposite?

*If I don't believe in something beautiful than I will fall into myself into utter destruction and ruin and fall into the darkest depths my thoughts can fathom.
Seeing the beauty in the smallest of things keeps me...alive. It keeps me here it keeps me from falling, it keeps me from making myself disappear. Sometimes I want to die. Other times I feel nothing.
But what pulls me out of that is seeing the beauty of things,
the balance, the compassion.
Sometimes I need to fall really hard again to see it once again.
Because every so often, i need to be reminded of just how beautiful things are,
but to do that I need to pull myself through the darkest depths of myself and face the hell i created for myself to remember what the light once looked like.
Such is life. In all things.
But that's just what I think.
Don't give me anything.
Let my blood flow through the river of
eyes. A tree dies standing.

Who is ready to go?
The demons want you to put to
torture. Nemesis was different from revenge.

The philosophy of existence
is, how do you define love? You want to
alter the will of god?
An empty hand will keep on searching,
a full hand is satisfied with what appears enough
The heart pleasantly echoes an expression of love,
but it’s a blinding siren, without putting the mind to it.

The eye is the most jealous body part,
the mouth an unkind blade of a man’s great envy
The ill of man, is quickly giving a judging
depth between their sins and others;
As according to us; the next person is the greater sinner.

Your faith wasn’t a quick given,
as you learnt how to cherish it firstly, as a beginner
How you live, comes from the ways you choose to adopt,
some do start out strong, faithful, loving caring and humble,
But throw in pieces of fortune into the combination, and
their morals are bought out and lost.

Your greatest mistake is what isn’t done yesterday,
and the longest regret isn’t doing it at all
Drunkards can drink together, laugh fight, &
drink together again; yet a sobered heart, will hold
onto unforgiveness until death.

Finally and true, a childish person,
still chases after their old youth
As a child forced to grow up quickly,
despises their own youth
As you’d find bliss in a lie of your own desire,
and would be disgusted by what is spoken in Truth.
Viktoriia 23h
mornings are slipping away in a blur,
patterns of certain habitual sadness.
words with no meaning,
disease with no cure.
porcelain dolls, both lifeless and ageless.
haunted by visions, hidden in mirrors,
wrapped in despair, victims and sinners,
chasing the rush of the next final turn.
decades are slipping away in a blur.
Viktoriia 23h
wait a moment, please.
should she feel sorry for being an inconvenience?
she'd rather plant the seeds of self-love
and wait for them to turn into trees,
sheltering her from poisonous bitterness,
nurturing her inner peace,
so that she can leave this world with ease,
letting time cover her steps with green and red,
letting the branches take shape of her silhouette.
someday this path might be found by someone else,
as unaware of her worth as she once was,
all of out of strength, given up on all her hopes;
she'll follow whispers and slowly retrace the steps,
and take her shelter among the fallen leaves,
nurturing her inner peace.
wait a moment, please.
should she feel sorry for being an inconvenience?
Sometimes
When I'm sad
And lonely
I will stare at
The stars and
Think about you.
About You ❤️❤️
Next page