Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: emotional pain

  • Ensnared In My Own Obsessions

    Ensnared In My Own Obsessions

    Ensnared in my own obsessions, tricked by my own illusions, I wandered, lost in the abyss of my fantasies. Nightmares were lulling me to sleep on a winter night, while soft whispers were revealing terrible truths to me.

    Time was slow like my heartbeat. I couldn’t cope with my anguish. It was a massive pain that devoured my heart constantly and slowly. Slow was the time. Slow was the consistency of all my pangs inflicted on me.

    Far away, I couldn’t perceive any clear horizon because respite was cast away from me. I could have cried; I could have screamed; I could have broken free from every cruel distress, no mortal soul would have ever noticed it, in the realm of sugary masquerades and coffee goblets.

    Overwhelmed by the sense of oblivion and nothingness, I begged my fate to make me forget my bitter and sad memories, in an attempt to save myself from destruction. Teardrops of crystal ran across my face until they fell into darkness in the absolute silence of the eternal night.

    And I finally sipped the very last drop from my toxic goblet. I could feel my heart fracture in all its power, and my body shake with bliss and delight. I embodied my decay fiercely, and flames engulfed me impetuously.

    Shadows captured me viciously with their menacing claws, ripping my heart to fierce sparkles of passion. Shivers of euphoria and panic coursed through my mind, and my body was under the influence of a magic spell.

    The void claimed me as if I were a creature of its tragic realm. That immortal doom seized me in a dungeon where no starlight could penetrate. I hesitated and sighed in the midst of the nocturnal haze, which hid the deception of my dreams.

    Ensnared by my own obsessions, fooled by my own delusions, I strolled in the chasm of my daydreams, although I was confused. I couldn’t feel loneliness anymore because of my imagination. I couldn’t discern anymore what was real and what was not.

    I strove to feel calm and so much wished to be a star glowing in the sky among clouds and moons.
    I aimed to be infinity and emptiness. My heart became a labyrinth of frenzy and murkiness. I was longing to be taken away from my hallucinations.

    And I wailed to the firmament a multitude of times over, though I knew that no creature was willing to hear my laments. Wicked ghosts cast a spell over me, mesmerising me, and I surrendered to their shadiness, mistaking it for deliverance.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The well of phantom wishes
    Was the well of my disappointments
    Of all those illusions
    That had deceived me
    In a malevolent way
    With their allure
    And their way of
    Misleading me
    With fake smiles and phrases
    Like lines from a script
    But in truth, it was all fake
    Every single thing
    And every
    One I had known, glimpsed
    Were nothing but
    Delusional
    Realities
    Beneath
    A deception
    A cruel deception
    That dragged me down
    Into that well
    So deep and so dark
    That I could not glimpse
    Any
    Vision
    Any hope

    My tears were of no use, nor was my despair.
    My broken heart had shattered, like a crystal or stone ornament,
    its translucence and splendour reduced to dust and fragments,
    soiled by the cold ground, soaked in mud and decadent filth.
    That beauty I had once cherished within me
    had turned into a twisted transfiguration of my own reflection.

    What remained in my hands was dust and decay.
    I closed my eyes, and silence shrouded my thoughts,
    making them vague and fleeting like dark shadows
    that moved around me but I could never reach.

    One of my silver bracelets that shone like stars broke,
    and through its fractures, you could read my life’s illness,
    My malaise of living, my melancholic soul
    that had no peace and could find no place of salvation,
    lost among the clouds that darkened my mind.

    The pain was raining down on me like one of those cold and biting winter rains.
    Almost as if it wanted to scratch me and leave marks like painful and distressing memories that followed me wherever I went at any time.

    My sighs and sobs were mystified by that funeral silence of the endless night which had neither beginning nor end, and which wrapped me in its dark and misty cloak, almost to intoxicate me with its gloom and make me forget my infinite pain.
    Elisabetta

  • The Emptiness Within My Mind

    The Emptiness Within My Mind

    The emptiness within my mind
    Is death inside my heart,
    With no golden cage, no precious gems—
    just silence folding round itself,
    no escape, no hope,
    Only absence holding tight.

    Exhausted and devoid of feeling,
    I lay upon the cold earth,
    strewn with withered leaves,
    fallen flowers,
    and shards of abandoned dreams.

    Weeping,
    I heard the intense sound
    of my tears falling
    on leaves shriveled
    by the cold wind of night.

    Nothing remained
    around you,
    around me,
    But only the vague memory
    of those anguishes
    that oppressed me
    and never ceased
    to pursue me.

    I no longer held
    any desire to desire,
    nor to keep
    anything within my heart.

    My heart had ceased
    to be a chest
    of my wishes and whims.

    It was merely
    an empty chest,
    emptied by the fury
    and storms
    that swept over me
    In my wretched existence.

    Not even the stars
    sparkled in the sky
    above my dwelling.

    The heavens refused
    to shine for me.

    Yet they had forsaken me
    to my fate,
    where no hope remained,
    nor even a small flame
    to bring me back to life.

    Whispers and murmurs
    came to me
    In the form of a misty breeze,
    laden with elegies
    and funeral hymns.

    Despair and anguish
    were gifts bestowed upon me,
    like dazzling joys
    that in truth did not shine at all,
    But bound me fast
    In a realm of cruelty,
    wickedness,
    and mercilessness.

    Helpless and fragile,
    like the petals of a well-bloomed flower,
    I could not withstand
    such impetuousness and violence of events,
    so hostile to me—
    like endless storms at sea
    whose fury knows no end.

    The emptiness within my mind
    had become a spirit that subdued me,
    against which I could no longer resist.
    At last, I became part
    of the abyss of oblivion,
    And there I remained for eternity,
    wandering like a cloud
    In a stormy, winter night.
    Elisabetta

  • The Memories Of The Past

    The Memories Of The Past

    The memories of the past drag me into their swirling realm of despair.
    Alone, I find myself in a desolate place, a pit of the living dead—buried memories in the graveyard of my past. All I see are rows of lifeless trees.

    I pretend it is autumn, or perhaps winter, yet in truth this entire landscape is but a reflection of my dead and decaying soul.
    The darkness of the night does not frighten me—on the contrary, it is part of me. I am no longer who I once was; I have become a spirit of the night.

    The emptiness within me is filled with fears and regrets, and with all that I have lost unconditionally and irreversibly—things I shall never have again. And thus, the wreck of my existence: not only is it wretched, but also laden with pain.

    My cries of pain and my screams of despair are worth nothing. I have never been worth anything—only to wither my soul, already inscribed with daggers of disappointment and betrayals, inflicted by monstrous and mortally deplorable beings.

    All my crumpled desires and shattered dreams lie underground among the remnants of my memories and regrets. Left without emotions and left without words, I surrender to my nightmares, to my anguished obsessions that permeate my heart and tear it into a thousand pieces.

    My tormentors advance relentlessly, ready to tear me apart and destroy me in oblivion and forgetfulness. How much longer I must suffer, I do not know. I only know that cruel fate has entrusted me to the ship of the wretched and lost souls.

    The memories of my past haunt me insolently and give me no peace, and so I shall spend the eternity of my non-existence as a restless spirit.
    Elisabetta

  • Leaving Myself Behind

    Leaving Myself Behind

    Leaving myself behind
    Through the pains and fears
    Anguish was my ruler
    And I didn’t demand anything
    Hurt was my soul made of pins and blood

    The roars of the demons claiming me echoed in my head
    The castle of doom was my pristine dwelling
    It was made of bones and ashes
    In the gloominess of the midnight

    I was fleeing from death to become decadence
    Leaving everything behind
    My past had crumbled to sand and memories
    Remembrances that followed me wherever I was going

    Disgraceful was my existence and only thorns stroked me
    Black roses were swallowing me like a prey
    Gloaming shadows surrounded me
    Beneath the indifferent gaze of the silvery moon

    I could only hear laments as manifestations of the night
    A mist of sorrow shrouded me like a gloomy cloak
    The cold air was full of decadence
    My heart slowed down at the sound of the drums of mourning

    I wandered beneath the barren heavens
    I had become a ghost clothed in remnants of despair
    I strived to seek refuge and rescue
    But all I could ever feel was the numbness of endless wandering

    The world around me blurred into shadows
    My realm was a graveyard of forsaken dreams
    Where even the stars had eclipsed for eternity
    And the winds sang elegies to my fall

    In this endless procession of sadness
    I was no longer a creature of the light because my heart was deceased
    But I was only a phantom dissolving into a mist
    Forever swallowed by the sorrowful darkness

    Leaving myself behind
    I left a trail of thorns and blood
    My heart was torn apart
    I was just a shadow of the underworld

    My face was carved with tears and scars
    And the paleness of death erased it all
    As if all my agony had faded like dust
    In the end, I vanished into the oblivion of forsaken sorrows.
    Elisabetta

  • I Belong To The Nightmares

    I Belong To The Nightmares

    I belong to the nightmares and the nightmares belong to me
    As long as my heart still beats I will be a creature of the darkness
    Anguish and distress are the reflections of me in every mirror I encounter
    I have no name but my past is an abyss of obliteration
    I have a dread of existing because I belong to death
    I possess the gift of scorn and indifference because nobody ever loved me
    I’ve always been despised and estranged by every shadow of this world
    I don’t belong to anyone not even to myself
    I belong to darkness and death
    Having lost all those treasures I’ve cherished so dearly
    Now I’m left with nothing but the dust of decay
    My bones and blood and heart belong to the underworld of death
    A realm that despises every miserable being parading their ridiculous triumphs with vain and frivolous pride

    I belong to the nightmares and the dungeons of madness
    I never follow the trail of soulless being of this material world
    I stand alone in my misery and proudly away from everyone
    I don’t need anyone belonging to humankind because I feel only rejection
    I’m a shadow of the night and my heart belongs to whom is not anymore with me
    I sealed my heart with ancient crimson wax made of my blood and tears
    Pride no longer belong to my ethereal sphere, where I decided to enclose myself to avoid the corruption of falsity and hollowness
    The silence that I chose to embrace is deeper than a grave
    In my sanctuary reserved for the broken and cursed spirits
    I despise the sunlight, and I devote my fetish to darkness
    In my veins flow only blood made of sorrows and black ink
    I have become the manifestation of all my screams that nobody ever heard.
    Elisabetta

  • The Invisible Cage

    The Invisible Cage

    The invisible cage was tight enough to trap every dream,
    Chains made of silence had bound sighs and hearts in an endless void of despair,
    Where hope was swallowed whole, and nothingness reigned.

    Having wandered through shadows, searching for hope,
    Each dream had been a reminder of an endless fight and failure.
    Darkness and light were trapped within the confines of an unseen embrace.

    A realm depleted of colour and lost without a trace,
    Whose walls were made of disquiet and the ceilings of doubt,
    Each teardrop had been a reminder of the dreams that screamed out.

    Yearned for freedom that dared just beyond,
    A flicker of hope had kept the spirit fond.
    The fences and chains were made of silence and fears deeply sown,
    And each thought became a reminder of how far distress and anguish had shown.

    The invisible cage was unseen but powerful,
    Had held the wandering spirits captive for far too long.
    Each day had felt like a ferocious struggle, and the nights had been long,
    Crushed beneath the weight of what seemed so unfair.

    Stares had looked to the sky where eagles had soared free,
    While the stars remained bound, longing to flee.
    In the abysm of the imagination, rebellion had ignited,
    Boldness had broken through what once was blighted.

    Desires had been filled with expectations beyond the realm of shadows,
    As the senses wandered through the endless dark.
    Each belief had turned to chains that dug deeper still,
    Like a well without water or a promise that would never be fulfilled.

    Though the cage had been hidden, its power had increased,
    Everything turned to dust like shattered crystals.
    In the garden of distress, the nightmares had bloomed and thrived,
    Sorrows were carved on each leaf and petal.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Shadows of Trauma

    The Shadows of Trauma

    The shadows of trauma arose in the hollow night,
    When the world turned gloomy, devoid of light.
    There crept a cloud, cold and vast,
    A spectre summoned from the past.

    Faint whispers drifted in the wind’s soft cry,
    Of days gone by, where hope would die,
    Where edicts of a cruel fate
    Chained hearts and minds in endless woe.

    The quiet hours brought it near,
    A weight that fed on silent fear.
    Its claws of sorrow raked the soul,
    Leaving wounds that never would be whole.

    The shadows of trauma, long forgotten, or so it seemed,
    In the days when innocence once gleamed,
    But buried deep beneath the skin,
    The trauma stirred, awake within.

    The faces lost, the voices gone,
    But still, the trauma lingered on,
    A spectre bound to grief’s dark well,
    Where once there stood a fragile shell.

    It feasted on the hidden grief,
    In every sob, in every sigh.
    Teardrops of sorrow, silent thieves,
    Granted pain that would not die.

    The shadows of trauma, through haunted dreams, sought their prey,
    In every sigh, in each dismay.
    The fleeting peace was ripped away,
    As shadows lengthened, twisting astray.

    Now trapped beneath a heavy pall,
    With no escape, no hope to call,
    The past arose with forgotten names,
    And life would never be the same.

    In silence, it never swayed,
    The trauma cast in shades of fray,
    A haunting force that never fled,
    Until darkness lived where the light had bled.

    The shadows of trauma yelled to the wind,
    Like a horrible storm of fires and ice.
    Memories carved deep, where silence had sinned,
    Relics of anguish, a perilous price.

    Through the darkness, a shadow lingered,
    A yearning for solace, for new dawn’s heightened.
    Chaos and despair, a fragile thread,
    While wishes had lingered softly where shadows once dwelled.

    Fragility wilted in the chasms of despair,
    A haunting echo of a soul laid bare.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Lost Desires

    Lost Desires

    In the chamber, dust collects on dreams,
    Lost desires whisper through the seams.
    Love letters yellowed with time,
    Words once fervent now seem like a crime.

    Fading photographs on the wall,
    Captured moments where shadows fall.
    Once vibrant hopes, now ghostly shades,
    Mirrors of deception cast enigmatic spells.

    A wilted rose waits in a forgotten vase,
    Each petal is a token of a vanished grace.
    Promises whispered beneath the moon,
    Now drift like leaves, a sorrowful tune.

    The clock chimes softly, a distant sound,
    Reminders of dreams buried underground.
    Longings linger like phantom’s sighs,
    What was lost cannot be denied.

    In the mirror’s reflection, a vacant stare,
    Lost desires haunt, a weight hard to bear.
    The heart aches for what might have been,
    For love unfulfilled, trapped in between.

    In empty passageways, the shadows play,
    Reminders of what slipped away.
    Conversations linger in the air,
    While silence echoes, a vacant glare.

    The fireplace crackles, its warmth long gone,
    Remembrances flicker like the break of dawn.
    Once shared moments, now bittersweet tales,
    As wandering through the halls of defeat.

    With every tear, a wish dissolves,
    In the abyss of sorrow, the heart twists.
    However, still, mortals chase those fading lights,
    In the hollow dark of endless nights.

    Lost desires bind like invisible chains,
    Each yearning whisper amplifies the pain.
    Finally, in the stillness, there lies a spark of darkness,
    A flicker of dismay lights up the eternity.

    Every heart mourns what’s lost to time,
    In the forsaken lore of lost desires,
    Among mysterious myths of love and longing,
    Forever undisclosed.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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