The Boy Who Plays With Doves

The Boy Who Plays With Doves

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"Hemlock, foxglove, nightshade three - / Shield me from catastrophe. / Silent lungs and final weeps. / Send my monsters back to sleep." Olden World, c. 1866: Shy Callum, the Seamstress's son, is an easy target for the village bullies. When Callum accepts help from a mysterious magick man to punish his tormentors, he finds himself in even more danger than before. _____ HIGHEST RANKINGS: #1 in CautionaryTale/Cautionary (February, 2023) #1 in Doves (June, 2023) #1 in Symbolism (February, 2023) #2 in Allegory (February, 2023) #2 in DarkFairyTale (February, 2023) #2 in Rhyming (June, 2023) _____ AWARDS: 🥇 1st place in Poetry | Elysian Awards (2022) | @laylagriffin_ 🥇 1st place in Best Cover | Elysian Awards (2022) | @laylagriffin_ 🥇 1st place in Poetry | Philosopher Awards (2023) | @PhilosopherAwards 🥇 1st place in Best Antagonist | Philosopher Awards (2023) | @PhilosopherAwards 🥇 1st place in Poetry | Daydreams Awards (2023) | @DreamlandOutreach 🥇 1st place in Poetry | Glorious Awards (2023) | @rockshower 🥇 1st place in Poetry | Crown Awards (2023) | @Tifari 🥈 2nd place in Poetry | Liberum Awards (2023) | @Maisha4
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Release

This is a collection of my writing from the past 7 years. Before I started to write, I was a very lost individual, as are most teens, but I was lost in darkness. I was too afraid to move anywhere at all. I hid in the dark, debilitated by my own anxiety, sadnesses, anger, and hopelessness. I was desperate to be loved and feared it the most, I was a coward, I was self-destructive, I would mentally bend my thoughts to the point of bordering insanity. I was born into this world alone, and got too comfortable with it. Maybe I still am, but a fraction of what I used to be. This writing is extremely vulnerable, and potentially disturbing to others, as all my weaknesses, strengths, obsessions with making every moment sentimental, the sickening desperation I've had, the destructiveness, and the constant brutal reconstruction of my mind. Without guidance, it's been absolute intense chaos. Though, there is beauty in the darkness. Everything can be found in the darkness. You'll find that through my writing, I've somehow slowly become exactly what I've written. A living representation of my writing and what I wanted to be. Without myself even knowing it. A lot of my writing themes are based around nature, or some kind of natural aspect. The imagery I paint with natural metaphors is constant, the animals, just like you and I, the plants, and all other living things. I planted these seeds in my mind, unknowingly at the time, where I now feel the deep dark green jungle pressing at the inner walls of my skull. It's all that I want to consume my mind. There's so much to learn. The magic of nature, and it's infinite wisdom. It's as if I have been on this path all along, and I didn't even know what I was doing, yet my body and mind were passively taking care of me. Giving me and eventually showing exactly what I want, and wanted to become. I have every moment, every instance of suffering, and every epiphany to be thankful for. Soon, I'll be at peace from the raging storm.

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