Tag: betrayal

  • Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere in my dreams, random thoughts enveloped my mind, and the bitter memories of what I have lost—of my buried treasures—saddened my heart.

    It was as if I had surrendered myself to my own steps, walking down an avenue lined with dead trees, and with closed eyes I had defied the wind, which whispered to me words and secrets I no longer remember.

    Weighted down by my anguish, I could not see a glimmer of light, of hope, that might guide me in a clear and lucid direction. All I could find was only chaos and fear—a dread that tormented me, the fear of never being able to grasp my dreams, of never being able to enclose them within the cage of my heart.

    As much as I longed to cling to life, to my plans and dreams, their manifestations fell into the abyss of emptiness—an abyss that sought to swallow me into its chasm.

    And I remembered all the principles that had been taught to me, shaped like a golden cage in which I was made to live my entire life—bound by rigid conventions, dark as chains coiled around my ankles and wrists, suffocating me like sly ivy twisting about my neck, its soft and slender leaves wrapping my face in a silent, silken strangle.

    No, absolutely not. Stupidity has never belonged to me, nor hypocrisy, nor superficiality. And yet, I have always stood beyond an invisible wall—between myself and other mortals, who have always found me unusual, strange, even impossible to define within their social and mental structures.

    Excessively extreme in my obsessions, in my feelings, in my passions and in my visions. I have always been—and still am—a visionary, a dreamer at the mercy of events that have never truly belonged to me, for even now I find their traces in the vault of my past, like fragments of memories scattered across the sky above my head.

    Somewhere in my dreams, I’ve got lost in the labyrinth of reveries, trying to find myself—but in vain, for, in truth, I have never known myself, and I have never found who I truly am. I have always lived with the illusion of knowing, the illusion that others spoke the truth to me—as if their words were pearls of wisdom, as if they could guide me.

    But in the end, what I found was only an illusion. Only betrayal. My heart has been permanently defiled by the torments of mortals and by the shadowy mirages that have always hindered my path.
    Lisa

  • Nightmares And Visions

    Nightmares And Visions

    Nightmares and visions visited me in the middle of the night, when sleep abandoned me to an otherworldly realm never seen nor imagined.
    The fog had clouded every vision, and I could see nothing but the shadows of faint images—spirits moving around me.

    My light sleep was nothing but a portal to a world where torment awaited me, and my heart was torn apart, again and again, without mercy. My gentle expectations had dissolved into the dark horizon, and I could see them no more.

    Indeed, I had become a creature of darkness, devoid of ambitions and expectations, for in truth what was destined for me was absolute emptiness—the total absence of life, love, and joy.

    How could I have held even the smallest hope of escaping that realm of darkness and despair? I no longer knew what life was—full of light, full of love, of hopes and delights.

    Had I been able to foresee my terrifying fate, I might have fled—perhaps among the clouds or the stars—if they had taken me into their realm.

    I might have been melancholic, perhaps—I don’t know—because at that moment I refused to accept any kind of feeling that my heart wished to embrace within itself. It was as if my heart had been torn from my chest and replaced with thorns.

    Pierced and betrayed by that world full of conventions, hypocrisy, titles, and useless materialism, I fled far away but fell into the trap of the world I myself had created in my visions—and that is why nightmares and visions were my most faithful companions, without whom I could not have survived.

    I breathed my last breath and, sighing, surrendered to the cold, sharp, and cruel embrace of the otherworldly realm.
    Lisa

  • Quiet Mourning

    Quiet Mourning

    Quiet mourning
    Waiting for a sight
    In the silence of the night
    When I forget to be a mortal
    Renouncing every earthy property
    In my deep slumber of sorrow and despair
    Forgetfulness is welcome in my heart
    As long as I can breath

    Quiet mourning
    Like the one of a creature made of marble
    In the middle of the wilderness
    Abandoned to my fate
    As nobody would dare to pay attention
    As I become a wandering spirit of the night

    As I dream, everything is surreal
    And I own only my loneliness and misery
    Having burnt every desire and expectation of mine
    I get ready for my burial in the garden of disgrace

    Having lost so much
    Left with castles of sand and decay
    I left illusions to guide me into the realm of deception

    Wandering aimlessly
    I didn’t find myself
    I lost my heart being laid to rest in the graveyard of memories
    I was dead
    I had no desire to be among the mortals who betrayed and plundered me
    With their ugly depravity and hideous horribleness

    I deserted all of them
    I fled the world of banality and deceit
    Not interested anymore
    I aimed to new realms and wisdom

    Hovering among shadows and ghosts
    I embraced my quiet mourning
    My stillness that made of grief and distrust
    Conscious that everything was destined for an end

    Merit and prices were far away
    As I was cast astray by the brutal chance
    In the silent cemetery of lost hopes.
    Lisa

  • Midnight Thorns

    Midnight Thorns

    Midnight thorns grew for each teardrop that stroked my face
    With a heart full of stitches and pins
    And for each memory, a mask of remembrance grew like a flower of death
    In a golden cage of betrayal and deception, I dwelled in utter solitude
    Faraway from the vulnerable and wicked sight of mortals

    At each instant, my expectations arose under the shape of lifeless trees
    No season and no hour differentiated the realm of midnight thorns
    A persistent aura of doom distinguished this gilded dungeon
    No sun was rising on the horizon
    Only the several moons dared to appear in all their splendour and dark emotionlessness

    My dwelling was a castle made of pure gold and decadence
    Amid an enchanted forest of malicious spirits and magic spells
    From each mirror, an unknown countenance emerged
    As if my reflection shifted with every passing instant

    Mystical fanfares and funeral laments wavered like otherworldly fragments of sorrow
    Echoing within the hollow walls of my golden dungeon
    Elegies without words hovered as mourning tributes to obliterated dreams
    The chandeliers wept waxen tears made of gold
    And all the chambers and hallways trembled beneath imperceptible footsteps

    I strolled in mourning robes, carrying secrets and grief
    I followed the trail of dark shadows, finding no merriment
    I had lost myself and all my hopes were obliterated
    Everything was buried beneath the ashes of my forsaken dreams
    And the shadows had become friends of my own melancholy

    The glooms were the reflection of my own melancholy
    And all the mirrors were portraits watching quietly with their empty eyes
    No sound beckoned my name, and no aid came from the darkness
    There I was surrounded by the heady perfume of ancient roses and antiquity dust
    I ceded to midnight thorns, the venom of demise and drama.
    Elisabetta

  • The Tides Of Death

    The Tides Of Death

    The tides of death and despair devour me into their abyss. Intimidated, I let the cold ocean swallow me in its frightening chaos. Humiliation and surrender chained me to the ocean floor; under constraints, I couldn’t escape my doomed fate.

    And I felt nothing, absolutely nothing. So much so that I was devoid of my essence and true self
    In the midst of emptiness, I was the embodiment of decadence and death. Nothing anymore could have hurt me because I was definitely belonging to the realm of demise.

    The tides of death transformed me into a creature of the realm of destruction and nothingness. I was a spirit of the dark abysses and my words were made of absolute silence. Betrayed by my dreams, I realised that I had no hope of staying alive and accepting my end.

    My heart had stopped beating and I was depleted like a withered rose. Nothing could have revived me and so much I strived to hold and cherish my desires, in the desperate endeavour to conquer my feeble spirit. The marine soil trembled under my faint body and opened into a dreadful gorge.

    Terror was the only emotion filling my heart. The distress was so brutal that it tore me apart. All that remained to me was to sing a silent song of desolation and defeat while collapsing under the weight of sorrow. I was all alone in the chasm of darkness and death, and nothing could have saved me.

    The tides of death possessed me and I couldn’t rebel against them. I was like a buried flower, dead before it was supposed to die. No tears rescued me from my deep despair. No slumber could have made me feel better. In that perpetual torpor, I was destined to remain for eternity and beyond.
    Elisabetta

  • Betrayed By My Own Delusions

    Betrayed By My Own Delusions

    Betrayed by my own delusions
    I imagine being an ethereal fairy in my realm of dreams
    Where no creature could ever perturb my heart
    And I could cry out my soul

    Invane becomes my attempt to remain wise and sane
    Insanity and madness are my new names
    I forget my essence to transform into another myself
    And in this metamorphosis, I’m the ruler of my own kingdom

    Silence is my new favourite language
    I can touch flowers of emotions whose scent bewitches me
    I’m under the enchanting spell that I’ve cast upon myself
    I’m a turmoil of love and death, and no storm can prevent me from my intentions

    Quietude is my favourite to express myself
    I stare at my several reflections in the mirror of disquietude
    And I hide behind the magnificence of my exquisite garden of dreams
    Where I can fantasize about all my envisioned hallucinations

    Because I adore soaking in the fountain of everlasting passions
    As my limitless yearnings for decadence and dissolute emptiness increase at night
    During my delightful slumber
    When I’m betrayed by my own delusions

    Lying in my garden of lush and mesmerizing flowers
    I forget my name and my essence
    And I don’t feel any fear or concern about my fate
    Because I belong to the darkness and oblivion

    The eternal night with starred skies belongs to me
    I become an odd fairy floating freely among her flowers of decay
    I identify myself with decadence and extreme love
    Because I’m insane and a storm of passions

    Melancholy and sadness are my steady companions
    From which I can never separate myself
    And all my blooming flowers wither and fade away
    As soon as I weep for my long-lost innocence

    Betrayed by my own delusions
    I forget myself and I’m left bewildered
    Intoxicated with the poison of my own desires
    Lost in the turmoil of my madness and decadence.
    Elisabetta

  • The Chains Of The Past

    The Chains Of The Past

    The chains of the past captivated me
    Placing me down on the cold soil of the garden of tears
    A place where no hope or wish was granted
    A dungeon of anguish and dismay that became my eternal realm

    An initiation ritual pierced my heart and made it bleed
    My blood nourished the flowers of betrayal and deception
    until they drained me of all strength
    Leaving me fainting on the cold soil among thorns and sharp stones

    Suddenly I felt that all my fears left my heart
    And I became the representation of numbness and apathy
    My body was as bloodless as an inanimate pebble
    Silent like a grave and dark as the night

    My soul parted whispering a farewell
    My heart was pale as ashes
    Every spark of curiosity and liveliness faded away
    Leaving me entombed in a deep slumber from which I would never awaken

    The chains of the past were a noose around my neck
    Drops of poison were falling on my face from the fountain of oblivion
    Longings and regrets entwined a chain of tears and blood around my heart
    A stupor was in my mind and weakness overwhelmed me

    My memories from the past became my hunting nightmares
    I couldn’t escape from them and hence I was lying helpless in the cold soil of the garden of death
    All I could hear were soft sighs and cries of despair
    Underneath the immense darkness of the night sky

    A curtain of haze blurred my blank gaze
    As the wind wove moans into shadows
    No dawn would ever find my eternal dusk
    No voice would unsettle my spectral silence

    Unable to find my way out of misery and sorrow
    I descended into the deepest abyss of darkness
    Becoming an unknown wraith in this garden of death
    Where even time had turned to dust
    And then only echoes of forsaken laments remained.
    Elisabetta

  • A Pang In My Heart

    A Pang In My Heart

    A pang in my heart is stabbing me like a dagger
    A wild storm initiated an endless turmoil
    Like a ritual of initiation that crumples my soul
    And the obsessive feelings of burning love

    Astonished to have lost the ability to control my senses
    Like a nocturnal butterfly doomed to be burnt to flame
    When she is attracted by the betrayal of an innocent flame
    Lost in the darkness of the night

    My will is enslaved to the lust of my senses
    A treacherous journey in the midst of a tempest
    Bewildered and bewitched by a wonderful stranger
    Only destiny knows what will occur in the ethereal world of my dreams

    A mesmerising enchantment captivates me to never let me free
    Wandering in total obscurity with no direction
    Feeling a fever of anguishes and hopes
    While an incessant rain is falling over me

    Unlock doors let me think about you
    As I would love to be there at that precise moment close to you
    Even in silence while I cannot stop crying
    Because I would love us to be immortal lovers

    Time passes but not my love for you
    Whose name is still unknown in my heart
    I wish you could have been reading these verses
    But I have the certitude that you will never read them

    Sobbing and sighing I open the window of chaos
    Embracing my inner tumult and apathetically breathing as I write
    Is there a chance of meeting someone by destiny?
    I always wonder about the reasons, but never about the surprises of life

    I lost hope and I dismissed myself to let stupor dismay me
    While I cannot stop thinking about you
    While I cannot stop loving you
    Even if I’m just an anonymous neighbour of yours

    I only treasure the spare and casual moments I had encountered you
    In real life and in my dreams
    And never forget about you
    While a pang in my heart stabs me deeply.
    Elisabetta

  • I Lived In Death

    I Lived In Death

    I lived in death, and the death lived in me
    As long as memories were within me
    As long as I relied on my dungeon of darkness and dismay
    The daggers of betrayal stabbed my heart and soul
    Numbing my mind in an eternal slumber for a decade of decay

    Foolishness was my wisdom and guide
    For I forgot my name at a time without the time
    In the eternity of forgetfulness of myself
    Living forcefully without the intention of life
    Doomed to solitude, numbness and death

    And so I wrote my despair and desire for not being any more
    Prisoner of fate and false scenarios
    I pretended to live believing in other truths and myths
    A spell of death and violence was written on my heart
    Still not free from the cage of demise and darkness.

    I lived in death, and the death lived in me
    Trusting the undying spirits of deception
    Captivating my heart and soul like vultures
    Avid of my mystery and innocence
    Having been thrown into a cave with no way out

    Slumber was my only loyal companion in my non-life
    Slammed doors and broken windows and screams the constant guests of my trap
    Explosions and metal dust were falling over my realm of nightmares
    Dreaming of not dreaming anymore forever

    Falling into unloveable harbours of uncertainty
    Being unintentional and detached in my survival
    Nonchalant about the future as I was destined to vanish
    Secrets and memories were pinning me down like a fallen butterfly

    I lived in madness
    Pretending to exist in a phantom reality
    Striving to scream but without success
    I’ve been an embalmed doll, trapped in a glass cage
    Untouched by love.

    My heart and lips have been sealed
    By the pins of sovereignty and hegemony
    Waiting to be forever free I feast upon myself.
    Elisabetta

  • The Dark Vault

    The Dark Vault

    The dark vault of death and desires was the hidden alcove where all the dreams became flowers of death.

    Desires painted the antique wallpaper in red blood, casting a spell on whoever dared to dream in a deadly slumber trapped in those walls.

    No light could have pierced the darkness that ruled that niche, not even the silvery moonlight, so shy to surrender to all that gloominess.

    Far away from every kind of imagination, desires, and dreams were nothing else than a beautiful aspect of death, with the only purpose of obliterating everything.

    No dream would have ever come true; instead, they would manifest the only final aim: the perpetual and endless destruction of all that was pure and magnificent.

    The dark vault was a mysterious crypt that existed only in a chimerical realm where time and space made no sense.

    The walls of this eldritch place were adorned with mirrors of betrayal, their shattered surfaces still gleaming.

    Each fragment reflected only the phantoms of lost expectancies and fractured souls. Every sliver concealed a story of despair, hissing in the silent domain of this dark vault.

    In the heart of this chasm stood a grave of glooms carved from obsidian and veined with crimson ichor.

    A tome rested upon the grave; its pages were inked with the anguish of a thousand forgotten souls.

    To read from this book meant to be bound to the vault forever, chained by the weight of desires turned to ash.

    Sobs crept as if disembodied voices murmured secrets of aggrieved existences. They wove around the corners like the Hydra, promising happiness and pleasure but delivering only torments.

    They unveiled tales of love turned decayed, of corrupted ambitions, of defiled innocence—all reduced to hollow vestiges of what could have existed.

    The darkness surrounded everything as a cruel reminder that no dream could ever flourish in such a place.

    Those naive dreamers who stumbled into this dark vault were ensnared by its grim allure. Their desires, once flamboyant and passionate, were siphoned away, leaving their spirits barren and their forms reduced to statues of cinders.

    These uncautious wanderers remained permanently frozen in agony, outstretching their arms and striving to seize dreams that were lost forever.

    The vault itself seemed like a living creature, feeding on the despair it provoked and expanding its labyrinth routes with each new prey.

    New grotesque chambers unfurled like malignant blooms, adorned with relics of devastated hearts and the skeletal relics of every aborted dream.

    There was no escape in this wicked vault, for it was an eternally cursed and tragic realm—a liminal space that swallowed all, reducing everything to echoes in its mournful symphony.

    The dark vault was the embodiment of the inevitable, where every dream, every desire, every spark of life came to die.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.