Pubescent Poetry

Not exactly proud of these but they’re a part of me all the same. Sometimes it’s important to look back at the past (no matter how cringe-worthy) and question just how far you’ve come, and who you are now:

Life is Flowers

Life is a petal,
That falls from the cringing creeper,
And silently settles,
On the hand of the ravenous Reaper.

Life is thorns,
That speak with a frivolous fragrance,
And none mourns,
On the crimson beach of flooded flagrance.

The sky is cold
But the snow sings a lovely lullaby.
The winter is cold
But the furthest is a single goodbye.
Life is flowers, life is strife.
Life is wonders, life is life.

Broken Hand

The broken hand.
It turns the wounded clock.
We know the dream has gone
That nightmare snores
In its throne
And clouds that fill
The broken sky
No longer fly.
He asked
And I answered
To die.


Roaring passion,
Roaring fashion,
Blazing like the old lion’s mane.

Fierce devotion,
Fierce emotion,
Sinking into the shadow of the great bear.

Clarity of sight,
Clarity of might,
Rising of the wings of the silver eagle.

A time past by,
To come by,
Flying to the den of the beasts on high.

Beautiful Life, a Promise

Fronting time immemorial, here and now,
To thyself, a promise made,
A bitter oath; a valiant vow,
Of the sky-blue skies; of an endless glade,
Of summer daisies and withered roses.
And the light, that brilliant light,
To forever, forever, keep it shining bright.
Though thou art one of darkness,
To don that battered mask,
Screaming of countless victories,
And to purposefully bask
In the sorrow, solitude and agony,
Constantly fighting for more heartfelt victories,
Catching those unforgivable tears,
Claiming that frozen glory,
To quench the solid emptiness.

And in the aftermath,
Those everlasting words,
In the past you gave me,
Paving a new path,
Slicing through the winds of worlds,
In the future you showed me,
Eternally eternal,
Stay the ride alive.

All written years ago in an age that should rightfully be forgotten.


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