Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: inner struggle

  • A Doomed Paradox

    A Doomed Paradox

    A doomed paradox was my trap
    The more I escaped the tighter I was bound
    Each step forward pulled me back
    I tried to chase the wind but it eluded me
    Each decision became a chain wound tighter around me
    To escape meant to be trapped
    For each door opened, another one was shut behind me

    My liberty was slowly being killed by my fate
    The harder I fought against my destiny the worse it approached it
    To unlock the chains I had to stay chained
    I strived to reach for freedom, but it closed in as poisonous ivy wrapped around me
    I attempted to defy the tide, but each wave pushed me closer to the abyss
    I struggled against the void, but each part of me was swallowed by the silence of the vault

    The shadows crept closer to me with their sharp claws around me
    Their gloomy chill tightened around me like a funerary veil
    They led me deeper into a labyrinth of forsaken spirits
    My heart thudded in a deadly cadence as if its hollow pulse belonged to the underworld
    The cruel embrace of despair of the dead wraiths was pulling me underground
    I lost my hopes in reaching for the stars that faded away like faraway candles in a storm
    I had become a prisoner of the eternal night, chained by the very darkness I sought to escape

    There was no beginning or end in this ill-fated paradox
    This doomed paradox became my eternal dungeon
    My refuge had become my prison never to be left
    I lost my wisdom to merit my madness as a prize
    Time left me and every hope of mine was reduced to dust
    I was becoming decadent and dead like a withered flower left to dissolve
    And all I could see was an endless nothingness surrounded by a deafening silence.
    Elisabetta

  • 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

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