Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: destruction

  • Trapped By My Dreams

    Trapped By My Dreams

    Trapped by my dreams, I was living exclusively in my eternal slumber
    From which I could not be awakened anymore
    Enchanting siren melodies and terrifying cries bewitched my heart
    The perpetual candles burning close to my bedside had the scent of deception

    I was no longer frightened by life and society
    I felt like the most free and ethereal creature in the universe
    And I ventured to remote islands of phantasmagoria
    Thunders of insanity crashed through my heart

    It seemed that everything was shaking, and a roar erupted
    A fierce and wild cry shattered the stillness of my fantasy
    The sky split open with flashes of burning glare
    As if the universe itself was coercing me to succumb to its chaotic will

    The destruction began its monumental obliteration of all my desires
    I could not cry or scream, for I had become silent
    I was like a hollow vessel lost in its fate while caught in a storm’s violent embrace
    My heart, which once burned with ardent passion, was now a feeble flame twinkling like a dying blaze

    I found myself wandering in the graveyard of my dreams
    My heart was bleeding for all the anguish and grief that filled it
    I got lost among the fragments of my shattered illusions
    While hovering through the ruins of my beliefs and loves

    I remained besieged by the ghosts of my fears in the company of bleeding roses
    I had lost all my beloved treasures, and all that remained to me was just dust of decay
    Condemned to be devoured by the infinite nothingness
    I could not see any of my hallucinations

    I could not hear any of the enchanting whispers that the wind used to bring to me as a messenger
    Forced to be enslaved to death and obliteration
    I was no longer trapped by my dreams
    And I dwelled in an unending state of sorrow.
    Elisabetta

  • Teardrops Of Blood

    Teardrops Of Blood

    Teardrops of blood descended on my cheeks like timid waterfalls
    While the cold freeze of a winter night stroked me
    A memento of my mortality and fragility
    Like dancing leaves falling from trees under the influence of an extravagant wind

    Since the day my evil fate threw me into a world of misery
    I escaped from reality to find myself in the realm of bizarre dreams and odd nightmares
    I had found myself living in a new world
    A place of ghostly apparitions and utopias

    Burning flowers became sparkling torches, guiding me in my journey
    In this labyrinth of darkness, I felt so overwhelmed that I could feel the scent of death
    The demise was waiting for me as if I couldn’t commit any mistake
    And I had to drink from the cup of poison that the oblivion offered me

    I became intoxicated by illusions and deceptions
    I started to believe every lie whispered to my heart
    And I bled all my soul out, crying teardrops of blood
    Random thoughts captured my mind, and it was like I was the captive of my own insanity

    I became the representation of sorrow and decay
    Not alive anymore, I was a wanderer of the underworld
    I didn’t belong anymore to the material reality
    I was an ethereal spirit of the darkness

    I became my own shadow and guide on an unknown route
    Not even the stars or the moon were there to lead the way for me
    I started to mourn myself because I knew my fate was doomed
    And death was there to wait for me

    In solitude and anguish, my teardrops of blood were my only comfort
    Poisoned and dazzled as I was, there was no resolution to my senseless disorder
    Madness had me as a captive in its cursed dungeon
    Surrounded by the skulls of those who perished from folly and frenzy.
    Elisabetta

  • Elegy Of The Withered Roses

    Elegy Of The Withered Roses

    Elegy of the withered roses was one of the hymns carved on my book of dreams
    Every time I opened it to flee the reality around me, I found myself in another world
    A realm of solace and delight but also with dreadful and disquieting hues
    Confused and dazzled, I began to proceed on my walk to the fountain of knowledge
    The more I wanted to know, the more I was convinced to know less

    My struggle to understand the mystery beyond a legend so dear to me was overwhelmed by the fear of oblivion
    As soon as I desired to open the books, decay trapped me in a state of affliction
    And nightmares hunted me like prey, wherever I was, in the garden of desolation
    What I’ve never seen before appeared in the mirror of my fate
    The truth hurt me like a dagger inside my bleeding heart

    The doom of desolation and solitude tainted every delight of mine
    Although I was fleeing the reality, I couldn’t find any haven where to rest in peace
    Sombre clouds overcrowded the night sky, obliterating all the stars
    And the moon emerged immense in her startling splendour
    As she was chanting the elegy of the withered roses

    I couldn’t understand if the shrieks I was hearing were groans of mockery or laments of sorrow
    All I could see was shadows embedded in the roots of dead trees
    Twisting like tortured souls in the abyss of perpetual despair
    Because after all, every dream of mine was a nightmare In the luminous hush of night
    Since my heart was just an imperfect relic of impetuous storms

    Nothing more could have been mended
    The rift between the realm of nightmares and longings had outgrown
    My castle of hopes and illusions had crumbled to pieces
    Its towers dissolved into mist, and its gates were devoured by stillness
    I stood in my loneliness surrounded by the debris and clutching dreams that were turned to dust
    As if sorrow itself had rewritten the fabric of my heart.
    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

  • 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

  • The Storm of Chaos

    The Storm of Chaos

    The storm of chaos and madness descended upon the world,
    Invisible and silent, its dangerous spell was cast,
    Like a doom of destruction and death,
    Its waves were made of hatred and despondency.

    Lost dreams in the emptiness,
    Were but ephemeral instants of joyful illusions,
    While the storm of chaos obliterated everything,
    No refuge was left for the uncautious dreamers,
    In a realm where even to dream was not conceivable anymore.

    Sorrowful angst and sadness grew like thorns,
    Among the silent stares of faint stars,
    A distant echo of lamentation whispered through the void,
    The mournful song of a world torn asunder,
    Beneath the weight of shadows, it could no longer bear.

    The sky, once alive with hope,
    Became a canvas of forsaken memories,
    Its immensity was an infinite depiction of dismay,
    Where every fleeting desire was drowned in despair.

    Mountains crumbled under the touch of a cruel spell,
    Turning to dust, like brittle crystal gems of forgotten epochs,
    The rivers dried, their waters devoured by the storm,
    Leaving behind barren wastelands, void of life and love.

    The wind, no longer a sweet embrace,
    Howled like a ghoul unleashed from the abyss,
    Carrying with it the sorrow of a thousand spirits,
    Condemned to wander in the darkness, forever lost.

    No sanctuary dwelled in this realm of devastation,
    Where yearning was an ephemeral ghost,
    And elation had long been exiled.
    Every corner was mesmerised by the storm’s fury,
    Even time itself began to erode,
    Shattered like a fragile mirror of a lost past.

    In the silence that followed the storm’s chaotic gusts,
    There lingered only the vestiges of magnificence and beauty,
    Wailing in vain for a deliverance that would never arrive,
    And still, none would respond, for the entire world had become insensitive,
    To the sound of frantic dreams and desires.

    There was no more dawn nor light,
    But only the dim glare of the dying stars,
    Whose feeble devotion faded into the cold grip of eternity.
    Indeed, the luminaries above dimmed and faded,
    As if they, too, could not bear to witness the obliteration below.

    The earth lamented beneath the weight of its sorrow,
    Cracked and scarred by the storm’s relentless clasp,
    An ethereal veil of despair threads through its very essence.
    Nothing remained pristine; nothing survived unscathed,
    Since the storm of chaos had devoured all it had struck,
    Leaving a hollow shell where once life had thrived.

    And as the last fragment of reality disappeared,
    A stillness, more profound than any before, descended,
    Wrapping the world in its frigid grasp,
    As the storm, pleased, at last withdrew,
    Leaving behind only emptiness and the eternal night.

    In this abyss of forgotten longings and shattered dreams,
    No tears were left to whine,
    Because the storm had annihilated everything,
    Its wrath left nought but ashes and whispers on the wind.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Madness And Paradox

    Madness And Paradox

    Madness and paradox in the eternal dusk,
    Black shards of darkness fall all over the aether,
    In the agony of frantic clocks,
    In a fountain of fractured dreams.

    Whispering cries collide with silent screams,
    Shadows crash on broken mirrors,
    Cogs of chaos grind in time,
    Crimson oceans swallow stars.

    Wheels of madness and paradox spin in vain,
    In a universe that melts and strains,
    And silence shatters in fractured veins,
    Where void and emptiness remain unperturbed.

    Clock hands swirl in chaos and panic,
    As giggles drip from erratic worlds,
    Ghosts of the twilight whirl in flames,
    Amongst the ruins of forgotten names.

    The castle of logic falls apart,
    Torn in a storm of sand,
    Where the compass spins, lost in confusion,
    In a realm of mysteries and enigmas, unplanned.

    Stars fall like shattered hymns,
    Lost in the void of fractured time,
    Each instant, a sigh in the splintered sky,
    Of a universe turned to dust.

    Images of madness drift on the wind,
    In the caverns of unseen dread,
    Twisted tales shape into nightmares,
    In a sky where desires are dead.

    Eternal dusk swallows the truth,
    In a festival of destroyed vows,
    Where wisdom burns in phantom flames,
    And dreams drown in discord’s chime.

    Chaos blooms in the garden of delight and dismay,
    As hope itself is torn and frayed,
    In the mirage of endless nights,
    Every virtue is lost and betrayed.

    Whirlwinds of folly tear apart the night,
    Fragments of doom and death replace all the stars,
    Distorted abysses clash and merge,
    Unleashing violent folly in a frenzied surge.

    Storms of turmoil, wild and fierce,
    Rip through the aether, shredding the veil of existence,
    In the fractured realms where chaos reigns,
    Eternity’s silence echoes with shattered chains.

    Fragments of reality collide and combust,
    In the maelstrom of confusion and dust,
    Torrents of madness swirl and scream,
    In the heart of a chaotic dream.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Pain And Anguish

    Pain And Anguish

    Pain and anguish blossomed into a sombre dawn,
    When shadows lingered and hope withdrawn,
    And echoes of sorrow became silent and deep,
    In the abyss of grief, secrets were kept.

    A realm awash in tears that flowed like wild rivers,
    Where darkness reigned, and doubts grew,
    Within this bleak, relentless was the night,
    Glimmers of resilience fainted bright.

    Tales of shattered dreams and hearts torn apart,
    Wove a lore of loss, a solemn art,
    Amidst the despair, a sign of defeat and surrender,
    Yearned to pierce through the perpetual night.

    In the depths of desolation, a journey through sorrow,
    Kindling an unextinguished flame of destruction,
    Within the heavy gloom of ashes of despair,
    After the inexorable loss of solaces and grimaces.

    Haunting and heinous memories became hideous ghosts of the imagination,
    Influential in their gloomy and whispering torments,
    Leaving destruction and death behind.

    The aether became thick with the scent of despair,
    As intrusions from the past pierced through the night air,
    Spectral forms weaving a veil of woes,
    In a sky where the stars refused to glow.

    In a sky perpetually painted with a stormy dye,
    The silence was deafening, and the stillness was heavy as arsenic,
    Binding pure love and innocence in an unwavering state.

    In the shadow of sorrow, dreadful glimmers appeared,
    A long-forgotten nightmare as a distant hope,
    Fumbling in the darkness, wicked and frail,
    But enough to whisper that everything was lost.

    Pain and anguish bloomed into scorn and despair,
    During journeys made of infinite trials and unknown foes,
    When obscurity lingered and hope withdrawn,
    Echoes of sorrow became silent and deep,
    In the abyss of grief, secrets were kept.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Torments Of Existence

    Torments Of Existence

    Torments of existence and death,
    Until the last speck of hope had been granted,
    To dreamers and illusioned vainly expecting realms of dreams,
    Underneath a starless night sky occluded by ignominious clouds.

    Despair hid behind shadows of forsaken longings,
    As the cold wind of fate chilled the bones of lonely ghouls,
    In the heart of the infinite darkness, where light dared not tread,
    And only silent screams of forgotten souls would reverberate unheeded.

    The essence of broken promises and shattered aspirations dissipated into the abyss,
    Unseen and unheard with a load of sorrow heavy as lead,
    In the midst of a reality binding and drenching them in perpetual twilight.

    No trace of lost dreams could have been revealed in the dark labyrinth of hunted spirits, Whose only solace lay in the embrace of eternal nights,
    For in this realm, the fragments of dreams merged with the wails of misery,
    Lost into the void.

    Torments of existence within a mournful maze of endless gloom,
    Within the depths of such despair,
    A gleam of defiance struggled to ignite,
    Amid the shadows of a dead heart.

    Every sliver of light strove to pierce through the suffocating dark,
    Until it became a frail memory of sick diseases,
    A weak flame that could not have endured the majestic abyss of emptiness,
    Swallowing every time and space.

    Death and destruction annihilated every hope and dream,
    Leaving only an empty desolation of shattered illusions and lost chimaeras,
    A barren expanse where the echoes of forgotten hopes lingered faintly,
    Relegated to the recesses of nightmares afflicted by the relentless tide of despair.

    In this forsaken domain, murmurs of bygone fantasies and dreams soared unrestrained,
    Hereafter reduced to haunting and obscene obsessions,
    The relentless march of time brought no solace,
    Only a deeper descent into the chasm of hopelessness.

    Anguished cries resonated eternally in an endless symphony of sorrow,
    And amidst the ruins of a world forsaken by light,
    Lonely figures wandered aimlessly, lost in the maze of torment and desolation,
    Spectres of once hopeful dreamers.

    In this realm where the sun dared not shine,
    And the moon’s glow was but a distant memory,
    Hope had become a relic of the past,
    A forgotten treasure buried beneath the weight of endless distress,
    In the presence of such overwhelming darkness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Supreme Desolation

    Supreme Desolation

    Supreme desolation in an oasis of lifeless dreams,
    Astray of the night and sweet memories of a time when the sun shined on the sky,
    Longings and phobias of a distant past and future melted away,
    In the sour taste of emptiness and darkness.

    Sorrows and grief descended upon the forest of joy and delight,
    Bringing despair and pain as incessant raindrops,
    While vanities vanished like phantoms in the void,
    Faraway from every hope and dream.

    A soft and untamed doom bloomed all over the silent night,
    Wherever a flower of death rose from the gardens of destruction,
    As a chaotic fate would have decided to the frost winds,
    In an abyss of storms and transformations.

    Supreme desolation of monotonous clouds,
    Among the many discoloured horizons of faded lights,
    When the skies are dark and mendacious like dirty lies,
    Betrayal of mischief and mediocrity.

    Hallucinations and nightmares ruled the night,
    Ready to illude and trap the enduring dreamers,
    In the realm of distorted shadows of repetitive and emotionless events,
    Slowly dissolving like snowflakes through the everlasting flames of intemperance.

    Sad fears gave way to hateful revenge,
    In an oblivious reality where silence screamed the loudest,
    Amongst ruins and remnants of lost strives,
    Eclipsed by the weight of forgotten sorrows.

    Within this bleak infinity, whispers and sighs indulged,
    Specs of what once was a chimaera now seeking renewal,
    In the depths of a vicious and relentless aether,
    A flicker of forsakenness, however faint, emerged.

    In the heart of desolation, there lay a spectre,
    A cruel reminder that amidst the gloom, dread endured,
    Though buried in the shadows of despair,
    Its faint glow ensnared the weary and enthusiastic souls in torment.

    The night stretched on, and dreams grew twisted,
    For in the darkest hours, only the abyss waited patiently,
    And from the ashes of anguish and despair,
    No dawn would have risen; only endless obscurity persisted.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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