Истории Metaphoric

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.

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.

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

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

collection of random poetry, a little bit of everything.

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

i give too much meaning to things

she woke up in the alley by her apartment.

Generico has been given the chance to wrestle Kevin Steen. For the first time, for the last time. It's not a fight. Not really. The hostility that usually accompanies such matches is missing. In eight months time, Generico has come to love Steen from afar, basking in the glow of his silver, stormcloud eyes. When Generico hears that the horrible man who made Kevin's eyes full of rain is demanding he return, it's all Generico can do to contain his own tears. Especially because he knows... His final moments with Kevin are going to involve them hurting each other.

" you and i walk a fragile line " darling - you're haunting me. " can't turn back now, i'm haunted "

Perhaps there is still hope. Look forward to a journey of ups and downs which starts in darkness. The steps you make might appear bleak yet they are imbued with a special trace of light. Will you be able to find it? It lies in your hands. ------------------------------------------------------------ Written words and images used are my own. Available in English and German. German title: Trost in der Dunkelheit

Just a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them

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.

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

Dive deep into the metaphorical language of my sins and longings, none of which, so I know, would be fulfilled.

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)]

2023 whom the truth mouths at

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

Attraction often pulls us toward what shines the brightest, but real love is discovered in quiet corners. Through a simple mall metaphor, this short piece explores the difference between instant appeal and lasting value, reminding us that patience helps us find something deeper and more meaningful.