A poem
Break
Beneath the surface, silent strain,
A fracture deep, a creeping pain.
The brittle edge begins to bleed,
A shattered truth, a twisted need.
What breaks is not meant to mend,
But to unravel, twist, and bend.
In brokenness, the shadows creep,
Where light once dwelled, now secrets seep.
The cracks run deep, they split the soul,
A hollow place beyond control.
And when the final break arrives,
It's death of hope—or birth of knives.
YOU ARE READING
Life of a Light
FantasyHey! Just a heads-up-this story might feel a little rushed and has its fair share of plot holes. It's my first time writing something with script-style dialogue and pacing, so I'm still figuring things out. Thanks for giving it a chance! ***********...
