The Horrors of 2018

Rusty Knife

The first poem is basically a poem created for experiment, though it's been drastically altered because parts didn't make much sense and the original version was about a rusty knife.
Typing this now, it's been two days and I wish to warn you about the second poem. Poetry has become a vent method, so be prepared for some not so positive things. (Not necessarily anything too dark but if you don't want more negativity, please avoid the second poem.)
Warning for cussing, implied dark topics.

Three Figures

Confessed my troubles to the select three,
and set all thoughts aside.
Through all this odd yet ordinary life,
they were who I'd tell every fucking lie.

One night, insanity and insomnia hit like a bitch.
Trapped, none of the three were seen at all.
That moment, hatred burned to be fucking alive.
I went to search, their teary eyes filling memory.
To search far and wide but not recover, try as I might,
Edged to give up, I fell scarred on my knees before I witnessed the glow.

I found the dear little ones, and in the breeze,
rushed to embrace them, neglecting any injury.

He watched from above, knew they were okay at last.
Vowing to keep them safe, Neresko, Akzeno, Eliy...

Fear to losing them would fuck things beyond comprehension,
consider that the former left this hell years ago.

one note
happy halloween spiders lmao

Beyond Predictions

The "dreadful" date
of Friday the 13th
had brought good memories along,
yet failed to prepare
mentally, and perhaps even physically
for the day that followed.

Wherever light is present,
an accompanying shadow will be too.

Awareness of close ones nearby
always felt nice,
knowing they weren't ill intentioned.
Akzeno's prescence, their sweet smell
brought the same comfort,
if not same, maybe more.

This evening, it feels
like the world known shall be forgotten
the moment my eyes descend
down the homely, yet unpleasant alleyway.

Acknowledging Doom and Joy sit within
awaiting a visitor; possibly anyone.

After a single glimpse
of the bare area
the feeling of dread had intruded
and seized all other thoughts.

Visualizing the proceeding events
is more than enough to bring guilt that smears.
Despite the protests at such volume,
pleading and yelling for the better option,
a weak voice, somehow louder than the rest
says to take struggle so I pay for past actions.

The anguish will wait until next day,
but Sundays are the worst.

Unfortunately enough,
this occurs in between the time period
that I strain negative emotions
but that does not mean I'll be happy.
I'll have to wait until the day
that Akzeno rejoices, so I can too.