Tag: Cold Embrace

  • 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

  • Fearless Sorrow

    Fearless Sorrow

    A fearless sorrow was the ruler of the realm of darkness and delusions. Not even the silence would have been so successful without it.

    Surreal dreams succumbed to the power of deception and fear. Nothing could have been altered, not even the cynical fate, as the grasp of sorrow and despair tore everything.

    Sorrow reigned over every corner, like ivy clinging to the shadows, dragging everything into its cold embrace.

    The stars themselves blinked out of existence, one by one, as if they, too, had surrendered to the desolation.

    Unspoken lamentations filled the gloomy aura, and each sigh was a reminder of the weight of existence.

    What once flickered with hope had long been extinguished, leaving only hollow echoes where light had dared to tread.

    The horizon, once vibrant with the promise of dawn, now stood still—a jagged line dividing the unknown void from the nothingness below.

    Time itself seemed to stretch and warp, losing meaning as the days merged into one endless, suffocating night.

    Beneath the ever-looming sky, the earth trembled with the weight of forgotten truths. There was no escape, only surrender.

    Shadows crept through every crevice, whispering the secrets of eternity lost to the wind, each moment a fading spectre of what once was.

    Wandering souls, trapped between life and death, carried the burden of their broken promises.

    Each anathema blossomed as a curse in the desolate landscape, where solemn echoes of laments vanished as quickly as they appeared.

    There was no solace, no reprieve in this abyss; only the cold certainty of oblivion awaited, where cries were swallowed by the emptiness.

    Even the world had grown tired of misery and despair. The endless night stretched on, indifferent to the mortal pains.

    A fearless sorrow consumed all while the relics of longings dissolved into the void, never to return.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Hollow Silence

    The Hollow Silence

    The hollow silence gripped the night,
    Beneath the weight of silent skies,
    Where stars once whispered dreams of light,
    But faded away as desires had died.

    The wind of life, a fleeting spark,
    Danced through the trees, then quickly waned—
    Moments dissolved into the dark,
    Lost to the hollow silence’ gloom.

    Time marched on, indifferent still,
    A tireless thief, unseen, unkind,
    Stripping bare the fragile will
    Of those who sought but could not find.

    The hollow silence swelled and grew,
    A wave that drowned all sound, all sense—
    The world spun on, yet no one knew,
    Trapped in its vast indifference.

    No light to guide, no ardour to grant,
    The weight of days, too vast to bear—
    For in that void, all breathed, all lived,
    Nonetheless, it only grasped at hollow air.

    With each effort made, an echoed sigh,
    A sunken sound, a ghostly tread,
    Chasing stars that blurred and died,
    In skies where all the dreams had fled.

    The sun did rise, the moon did fall,
    But neither heeded mortal cries—
    Existence, vast, untouched by all,
    Turned a blind, unfeeling eye.

    The hollow silence claimed its prize,
    Wrapped every thought in numbing frost—
    For in the end, beneath those skies,
    Reckoning all that was treasured and lost.

    And finally, a longing, despite the void,
    For meaning woven in the haze,
    Seeking truths that fate destroyed,
    In endless nights and hollow days.

    A hollow silence called so near,
    Its cold embrace, a final snare—
    The search for answers, year by year,
    Yet only shadows lingered there.

    Still wandering, lost and small,
    Through labyrinths of endless nights—
    Hoping, though fearing the fall,
    That something waited beyond sight.

    But time, relentless in its flight,
    Left all dreams to fade away—
    The distant resonances of the night,
    A silent plea that none could sway.

    Reaching for more eventually only found,
    The hollow silence, all around,
    Burying all without a sound.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Entropy Dreams

    Entropy Dreams

    Entropy dreams,
    Fragments of utopia scatter in the emptiness,
    In a whirlwind of forsaken dreams,
    Silent screams come to be louder,
    In the void, nothing is what it seems.

    Stars weep, their light fading fast,
    Time disintegrates, a mere illusion,
    The cosmos laughs, a cosmic jest,
    Existence crumbles in confusion.

    Shadows swirl with unseen chains,
    Life’s meaning slips through broken mirrors,
    In the chaos, only doom remains,
    A bitter taste of despair lingers.

    Ethereal entities move with severed ropes,
    Controlled by unscrupulous needles,
    A spectacular show of futile things,
    A game of illusions and cruel wills.

    Stars search for new realms in endless nights,
    Ghouls beat to rhythms of despair,
    Wandering flames grasp at straws of fleeting light,
    Before dissolving in the nothingness.

    An embrace of the void, deprived of hope,
    Chaos, a precious place of the final phase,
    In the end, there is only the abyss of solitude and annihilation,
    Entropy dreams, like a cold and relentless embrace.

    Slowly, the wind moves every delight away,
    Dizziness and anguish like heavy rain,
    During long nights of dismal nightmares,
    Visions of death and tears.

    Blood drops on the stones of ancient times,
    Like red roses blossoming in thorns,
    An invisible dungeon without escape,
    Buried alive dreams.

    At the ends of the universe, forgotten and forlorn,
    Fates and fortunes entwine in macabre proms,
    Legends of chaos, haunting mournings,
    Lost in the labyrinths of chance and oddity.

    Thoughts unravel, threads of wisdom fray,
    Spectres of expectancy drift away in the abyss,
    Beneath the stars’ apathetic glance,
    Entropy dreams surrender to the darkness.

    Void’s clasp, cruel and relentless,
    A garden of despair and sorrow,
    While every memory is a faint reality,
    As the darkness devours the light.

    Tangled in the web of destiny,
    Time ticks to the rhythm of decay,
    In the end, it was too late, too late to reprieve,
    Lost in the grasp of entropy and chaos.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Melancholy Manor

    The Melancholy Manor

    The melancholy manor, grand yet worn,
    Hosted a ghost of sorrow born,
    Its halls were cold, its rooms were bare,
    With echoes of despair.

    The chandelier, it swayed with ease,
    In the drafts of phantom breezes,
    Its crystals caught the moon’s cold light,
    Casting shadows in the night.

    Portraits hung on walls of dust,
    Faces faded, lost to rust,
    Their gazes, they followed every move,
    In this mansion, none could have soothed.

    A piano in the corner stood alone,
    Its keys were untouched by mortal hands,
    It played a tune of deep lament,
    A melody of sorrow spent.

    In the library, books decayed,
    Their pages brown, their words away,
    Each ancient tome was a tale of love and loss,
    Of souls that paid the highest cost.

    The garden, wild with creeping vines,
    Its beauty was lost to dark edges,
    A fountain dry, its waters gone,
    A symbol of what’s passed and done.

    The mirrors cracked, reflecting the past,
    Of memories that could not have lasted,
    A phantom’s face, a spectral tear,
    They waited for someone who was not near.

    The staircase creaked with every step,
    A sound that made the silence weep,
    Its bannister, a cold embrace,
    Of hands that longed for warmest grace.

    The clock ticked in mournful chime,
    A metronome of endless time,
    In every corner, shadows played,
    In the manor, where ghosts stayed.

    Whoever found themselves trapped inside,
    This house of sorrow, thick and evanescent,
    Remembered those who lived before,
    And left their grief within its doors.

    The melancholy manor was silent and forsaken,
    On the inside, lingering threads of lost despair,
    The manor held its secrets tight,
    Within the grip of endless nights.

    Cobwebs draped like silken shrouds,
    Ensnaring dreams beneath their clouds,
    Time was immutable in haunted gloom,
    Where sorrow was the only bloom.

    Outside, the wind began to howl,
    Echoing the manor’s mournful growl,
    The world moved on, but there it stayed,
    A relic of the lives betrayed.

    No respite from the phantom’s call,
    Bound to the melancholy hall,
    The manor wept with ghostly grace,
    A timeless, haunted, solemn place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

Skip to content