Innerbattle cerita

They say the worst chains are made of steel. But the real ones? They're stitched in silence, guilt, and invisible scars . > Behind every quiet smile lies a storm no one ever saw. This isn't just a poem-it's every silent scream, every invisible wound, every chain we wear with grace. For those who never cried out loud. For the ones who kept breathing through the fire. You are not weak. You are the wildfire they failed to silence . "Chains You Can't See" is a journey through invisible battles, unspoken pain, and the quiet fire to break free.

Hi this is my first story ever Here is the start of the Prologue I could only sit and watch as it took her. Paralysed by fear I watched as it destroyed her, drenching itself in her crimson blood. The tall slender being was pitch black from head to toe with fiery, red glowing eyes, with a glare that could drive anyone insane. It wore a black suit with a red tie and a black hat, the colours contrasting with his body. Its face looked like it was forged in the abyss of hell itself. As it played with its suffering victim a bone white smile appeared on its pure black lips, sending shivers down my spine, but seeing this also filled me with anger. I knew that it was a bad idea at the time but I could not sit here and watch her suffer for any longer.

Two years. Two years has pasted for Hydroik. His life was finally turning out alright. Until his family had to visit. With no idea how to react Hydroik decided to give his real parents his love. Though he tried, they just didn't seem right. With an all black out eclipse coming Hydroik must make his decision to either stop his parents or join them. But James and his children won't allow it even if it has to kill James all over again. Join Hydroik in his struggle in A Different Werewolf: The change Book 2

Some small poems that I wrote. These are the feelings what I felt were killing me from inside constantly.

Behind every silence, there is a scream unheard. This is not a story of love - it is a journey through inner battles, hidden pain, and the light that survives within darkness. Silent Scream tells the story of contradictions we all carry - joy and sorrow, hope and despair, silence and the desperate cry within. This is not just my story, but yours too.

the story is about an individual who has an inner battle that they must survive

This is a poem related to the epic tale of Beowulf (unknown actual author), translated by Seamus Heaney. This is about the conflict between Beowulf, the hero of the story, and Grendel, one of the villains. This poem compares Grendel and Beowulf to a person's inner demons/angels.

"A bird dreamed to fly high, but years in a cage made her forget how. Now the door is open, yet she doesn't know how to leave." ~ The pain of unexpressed emotions.💟✨

Celestina, a once-powerful angel with chaotic abilities, loses control of her powers, and casts her memories into oblivion. Centuries later, on Earth, her shattered mind struggles to piece together her fragmented past. But salvation arrives in the form of Michael, an enigmatic figure who recognizes the lost angel. Their connection is immediate, but Celestina's mental agony persists, manifesting as haunting nightmares that embody her deepest self-hatred. As the two embark on a journey to restore Celestina's memories and heal her fractured soul, they discover that her chaotic powers were drawn away to a mysterious realm. It's a world where spirits wage an eternal battle between light and darkness, and Celestina is destined to play a pivotal role. With each step, their bond deepens, while the line between their struggles and the destiny of the spirit world blurs. Will Celestina overcome her own darkness, find solace in love, and fulfill her role in the battle for the spirit world's fate?

A simple poem to those who fight for their inner freedom.

I sat at the edge of my bed, staring at the empty room. The rain tapped against the window, a steady reminder that the world kept going, even as I stood still. My phone lay face down on the nightstand, silent, with unread messages from people who cared but couldn't reach me. The darkness felt heavy, suffocating, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. I traced the scars on my palms, memories of struggles too deep to share. A tear slid down my cheek, but I wiped it away, not wanting to admit that I was drowning, even in a room that should have felt safe. Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, I stayed, waiting for something that might never come.

I should be grateful for my hands, without them, my thoughts would be left in the dark. A collection of words made into sentences to relieve my heart from the burning sensation of unwritten thoughts. Raita_san.

just some one-shots regarding my actual story.

It has been months since I have new friends. No, they are not ghosts. Nor are they apparitions. Rather, they are voices. The one that would exist in the mind of a schizophrenic. However, this one is different. For me, they are more than just crazy, meaningless voices. They are something way, way more

"Guys what are we going to do?" Ray asked with a panicked expression on his face. "I don't know," Carter said in a low voice. "Chase this is all your fault," Ray yelled. "No," Mason defended Chase who hung his head low." We're all to blame." Just then a knock is heard at the door. A silence engulfs the entire room. None of them dares to ask the question that will lead them to accepting that nightmares do come true. Who's behind the door? *************** Follow the lives of four friends(practically brothers) as they deal with secrets from their past.

You think you've survived, yet something still pulls you toward the ache. You soothe your heart, whispering that it's nothing - soft, light, harmless. You convince yourself it's free will, strength of mind, a calm command. But it's a bitter fruit stuck in your throat - neither swallowed nor spat out, only lingering in pain. You try to smile though your lips tremble from exhaustion. You look into the mirror, asking: Do I pierce through it, or does it pierce through me? You reach out to yourself, touching your own solitude, only to find a blurred reflection. You ask your torn heart, How much endurance do you have left? Life keeps coming for you - relentless, unapologetic. It hurls you against the wall, only to bend you halfway, then forces you to rise again, like a sword reclaimed. You spin within your own orbit, watching repetition tighten its grip. You lose, you are lost, you search. It's a revelation without clarity - like a theft in broad daylight by a blind thief. And then, a faint light disturbs you; you fear it might expose you. You stand on the edge of dawn - and extinguish it. Still, you keep trying.

Lying is a survival skill. Sometimes, lying is a necessity, if not just a mere way to sugarcoat the unpleasant, dodge the unnecessary, and temporarily keep someone or something at bay. But while it is a skill to be used sparingly and with the utmost care, someone who claims to never lie... well, they've just spoken the greatest one there is. But every lie bears weight, and even the perpetual liar may find that it eventually becomes too heavy to carry. [Old poem with many flaws. Preserved as is for personal future reference.] Full poem + Author's Notes.

This poem is a raw dive into the fractured reality of panic, anxiety, depression, and the blackouts that shape a life unseen by most. It follows the journey of one person navigating streets, memories, and moments of sheer terror, walking a path where the body and mind betray each other. From the pounding heartbeat that feels like it has escaped the chest, to the trembling hands and pinching pain in the left arm, every line is an unflinching reflection of what it's like to survive in a body that reacts before the mind can understand. This is not just a story of panic attacks - it's an intimate confessional of trauma, empathy, and the struggle to maintain stability when the world seems too loud, too heavy, too dark. It's a reminder that even in fear, chaos, and confusion, there is movement forward, there is agency, and there is the quiet determination to survive. For anyone who has walked alone through their own storms, who has felt their heart outside their chest, or who has stared into the void and kept moving, this poem speaks to the flesh, to the bones, and to the unbreakable spirit inside.

Everyone thinks Ava is okay now. She laughs, she listens, she shows up. But behind her quiet smiles and steady presence, she's still carrying wounds no one can see. Invisible Wounds is a deeply emotional story about silent struggles, quiet strength, and the ongoing journey of healing when the world believes you've already recovered.