Tag: Bleeding Flowers

  • Extravagant Flowers

    Extravagant Flowers

    Extravagant flowers bloomed under the shape of luscious desires,
    In the nighttime darkness, they glowed in all their lush,
    A manifestation of fearlessness and carelessness veiled in madness.

    Bleeding flowers blossomed in the garden of doom,
    Where the land was soaked in blood and tears,
    Profane dreams were made of darkness and sorrow,
    Surrounded by the scent of dirty nightmares.

    Every statue in this luscious park was corrupted by the scent of frivolity,
    A labyrinth where completely oblivious travellers, delusional romantics,
    Wandered, losing themselves amidst the shadows of hollow trees.

    A storm of horror overwhelmed the garden,
    A blast of fear tormented the extravagant flowers,
    Leaving crystal blood drops to shine bright under the pale moonlight of dreadful dreams,
    Among the twisted branches of trees, where shadows swirled in trepidation.

    Time no longer existed in this realm of manias and insanity,
    Luscious blossoms became bleeding flowers during ominous nightmares,
    In a secret realm where turmoil ruled supreme,
    The garden of beauty and blood nourished itself on a storm of horrors.

    Sanity had lost its battle against the dominant frenzy,
    Foolish desires ruled this magical, decaying world,
    Where lavish and extravagant flowers bloomed in wild beauty,
    And the sanguinary blossoms thrived in their crimson, sorrowful decay.

    Fountains of amnesia adorned the garden,
    Their waters glistened a red glow under a darkened sky,
    Whispering promises of freedom, although they lured only deeper into oblivion,
    With their aromatic bleeding petals wet with forsaken tears.

    Extravagant flowers intoxicated the air with their fragrance of opulence,
    A perfume that clouded all the senses,
    Numbing reason and igniting insatiable longings
    For more—more dreams, more madness, more of this luscious delirium.

    This luscious maze, once filled with beauty, spiralled into a darkened utopia,
    Where bleeding flowers and lush desires intertwined,
    Feeding on the decay, the obsessions, and the fleeting hopes of delusional hearts.
    Its embrace was eternal, a cold and empty trap,
    Where the most dreadful agony wielded the most power.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Bleeding Flowers

    Bleeding Flowers

    Bleeding flowers bloomed in the garden of decay,
    Where the soil was soaked in blood and tears,
    Obscene dreams were made of darkness and despair,
    Surrounded by the scent of indecent nightmares.

    A storm of horror and darkness overwhelmed the garden,
    A blast of fragments of fear tormented the bleeding flowers,
    Under the distress of obsession and madness,
    Leaving crystals to shine bright only in the dreams of delusional romantics.

    Beneath the twisted branches of hollow trees, shadows danced in dread,
    Laments of forgotten souls stirred the stagnant air,
    The stars could not glow anymore, as phantom’s ghostly stares,
    Ropes made of spider webs were woven through the madness, a night beyond decency.

    In this surreal realm where nothing pure remained,
    Lovers’ vows were buried deep in graves of dust and sand,
    The bleeding flowers wilted, bound by cursed chains,
    In a world consumed by rot and broken trust.

    Some delusional hearts still dared to hope,
    Being beauty still ruling in those nightmares, fleeting delusional visions,
    The garden bound them in its deadly scope,
    Its embrace was an eternal, cold, and empty trap.

    Bleeding flowers with crimson petals and leaves,
    Their thorns were long and sharp, ready to hurt those admirers of their beauty,
    With their invisible grimaces, these ethereal blossoms pierced
    Feeding themselves with blood and tears.

    Gone desires were just doomed memories of delightful instants,
    Doom and decay fed the garden of dilapidation,
    A hopeless existence was the life of dead trees and bleeding flowers,
    Not anymore could have been rescued from that eternal doom.

    Not even wraiths, not even phantoms, were able to wander in that terrible garden,
    The garden of beauty and blood where the most dreadful agony ruled supreme,
    And time stroke each second like a spasm of agony.
    An endless nightmare of abhorrent darkness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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