Metaphor Stories

Exploring what stories are hidden inside the wrappers with a simple metaphor "Life is a box of chocolates"―while still searching for my socks This collection is not strictly autobiographical. The poems explore emotions, identities, and perspectives: some lived, some imagined, some observed. Book cover: A photo clicked by me with a sprinkle of editing using Canva If you think this description is a 96.8% copy paste from my previous book..... YES IT IS. (⛩⏢⛩) If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Some stories don't end - they fade, leaving behind an afterglow. This collection is a quiet unraveling of moments that almost happened and feelings that never found their voice. From silent battles fought like storm, to fleeting connections born under midnight skies, each piece lingers in the space between holding on and letting go. These poems are not about perfect endings. They are about the pause before goodbye, the echo after love, the beauty of what could have been. Step in gently- not everything here is meant to heal. Some things are only meant to be felt.

「 Can you teach me how to be happy? 」 Fujiwara Ao has been living the past nineteen years of his life in ease. Born with the ideal background and blessed with enough talent, that's what most of the people presume. In their eyes, he was simply nothing more but a rich, unsociable, and self-centered person. But what they don't know, however, is that the truth is farther than expected. In reality, Ao has been abandoned. Suffering from a personal tragedy that until now continues to haunt him, he was shunned by his family and left on his own. Ever since then, he learns to separate himself from others. As each day passes in a monotonous cycle, Ao finds no more warmth nor color to his world. Then one day, Hashimoto Rie enters his life. Stubborn, eccentric and enigmatic, Rie ends up pulling Ao to her side and urges him to see through an invisible kaleidoscope that alters his perception of the world entirely. And like that, everything has changed. But change... doesn't necessarily mean that it's always for the best. Or...? - - - - - • cell phone novel • #26 in general fiction ; #13 in short story • completed ; edited

For the readers who love variety, emotion, and stories that speak in different voices. This multi-genre collection is filled with raw feelings, unexpected turns, quiet moments, and loud ones too. Every chapter opens the door to something new-a different tone, a different conflict, a different heartbeat. From romance to mystery, from drama to the supernatural, each story offers its own unique spark. Perfect for late-night readers who crave depth, surprise, and a fresh experience every time they turn the page.

Just some poems I wrote. Mostly psychological, philosophical and metaphorical

i give too much meaning to things

- ˗ˏˋ𝙢𝙮 𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣ˎˊ˗ ── .✦ ⸝⸝ 「 "𝘽𝙚𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡." 」

The dark past will never let her go. She felt it from the very beginning, like an endless ocean pressing in. They say that you can't measure someone's pain or love. It's like a broken scale. She had learned early how to hide and disappear. And just like this she wasn't normal anymore, not humane but something worse... What happened in her teenage years will haunt her forever. Now at almost thirty, the fog slowly lifts. Years vanished like ashes in a river. When you finally lift the veil, what do you see? Deep inside her a voice was waiting to be heard and understood. That's all she could ever ask for. But when a chance like this is finally in front of her, she feels threatened. The fragile control and her mask she had to put on all these years were fading. Everything she had built would crumble. She had to finally face her demons and decide what she was willing to sacrifice to take the first step. "Do you know what it took to finally be so gentle?" she asked, as if she would eventually get an answer back. "Fucking everything." And it was fucking everything.

The weight was there first. Before the wreckage. Before he had anything to apologize for. So he climbed. Not toward peace. Just away. Then the stall came. Not because of the storm. Not because of the aircraft. Because he kept pulling back when he should have leveled off. And in that stall - in the chaos of it - the passengers disappeared. The voices stopped. The seat beside him went cold. He lost them in the fall. Not before. Now he's alone. Trying to climb again. Stalling again. The cycle doesn't end. The storm was never the cage. He was.

He has been sinking for as long as he can remember. In the cold depths, he finds someone who mirrors him in every way. But the truth remains just out of reach. The ocean isn't what it seems. And sooner or later, he will have to open his eyes.

2023 whom the truth mouths at

I found myself in a motel, in a place where nothing was real. I found someone there, someone that I knew. [Open fanfic inspired by the BTS Music Videos "Boy Meets Evil", "Spring Day", "Young Forever", "I Need U", "Awake", "Blood Sweat & Tears", "Serendipity", "Fake Love" and the Wings series.] (Short chapters.)

Highest Rank: #48 Your memories fade fast. Mine, grow brighter by the day. I am excited for that time When the world is finally not dark in my eyes. For the same time you wait in fear Mumbling to yourself, 'the end is near'. For what if when I can finally see you You don't remember me at all?

every morning is a beginning after a night's end, and they shine differently.

A day, in a dream.

he felt his heart leap in his chest, racing faster than should have been possible, as he considered his options. things didn't look good. he was stuck here, and no matter what he said, he knew that in the end, he wasn't going to get the outcome he wanted. it was a lose-lose situation. he could barely think over the noise of his own panic. his breathing became more and more laboured, and as his lungs struggled to draw in air, his eyes became fountains. this wasn't good. [cross-posted to ao3 under @/chaosqueen (nuclearpeach)]

What is a writer if not a slave What is a soul without a mask What might a person be without a lie And what might you be if not your own We watch in fear as we are written in tails Watching the horrors we go through You wake up one day and you will feel numb As if your soul has left you barren My name is miles, and I am 1 of 8 billion There are only so many writers And yet I chose to be Trial and Error, we all find our way at some point

An accumulation of thoughts amalgamated into poetries. There's no specific genre, I write what I feel under the chaos. Huge thanks to my talented friend for designing this cover💞💞 @karroowersi

In essence, each of us is living our own tragedy. This is just another one of these tragedies, no more special than your's or mine. Note: Might be a bit graphic.

collection of random poetry, a little bit of everything.