Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: melancholic art

  • Devoured By My Own Dismay

    Devoured By My Own Dismay

    Devoured by my own dismay
    Crying in the middle of the night
    Feeling the sharp points of the daggers impaling my heart
    Fainted behind my shadow
    Forced to live
    Devoted to death
    Striving for darkness and the underworld

    Devoured by my own regrets
    Chains of anguish that bond me to my death chamber
    Where I hid behind the veil of sorrow and blood
    Like a magnificent statue of sorrow veiling her countenance

    I melt in the haze of the night to become invisible
    I become the night and the solitude
    Just a creature of the underworld
    The realm of destruction and death
    Transformation mutes me in infinite shapes and entities

    Devoured by my own dismay
    I linger in my own fantasies
    Sometimes they are my nightmares and they want to obliterate me
    Sometimes they are my fears and anxieties
    Chaining me to my dungeon of anguish

    Slowly the rain falls over me
    Stroking my face as to accompany me in my garden of loneness
    I surrender to my madness and turmoil
    I have no power anymore
    I lost everything to be left with dust and decay

    My heart is stitched and bleeding
    Buried inside a coffin in the graveyard of memories
    In the cemetery of those I lost permanently

    And time seemed to stop at the very moment my grief began to be alive
    Interrupting my life and slicing me into fragments and pieces of flesh and blood
    To be relegated to a poky fate
    Tucked behind time’s dusty drapes.
    Elisabetta

  • The Dungeon of Sadness

    The Dungeon of Sadness

    The dungeon of sadness was a trap of beauty and delight,
    Luring dreams and visions to embark on a journey in its labyrinthine trails,
    Until they were soaked in sorrow and grief,
    Like dead leaves trapped in a swamp.

    A suffocating heft bore down, laden with despair,
    Wrapping around like an overwhelming shroud.
    The walls wept, their stone faces slick
    With tears of ages long forgotten.

    A faint glow oozed through the fractures,
    Not of longing but of some unearthly dread,
    Casting shapes that jigged like phantoms,
    Teasing the lost who wandered within.

    Corroded chains clung to the slammer’s bones,
    Each link was an eerie monument to captive dreams.
    The silence wailed louder than screams,
    Like oppression depressing the weary senses.

    This labyrinth of grief and distress became a realm of nightmares,
    Where there was no escape but only deception.
    The sky became overcrowded with ominous clouds,
    Which smothered all the luminaries striving to gleam through the gloom.

    A mist of languid sorrow and melancholy steered like a lugubre presage,
    Hope was a fleeting spectre whose whispers drowned in the ocean of oblivion.
    The mirror of torments reflected the anguish of each soul,
    And all the joy and light were depleted in the dungeon of sadness.

    The maw of despair devoured the time,
    And its beauty lay in the perfection of its torments,
    Such a cruel art that was engraved in endless suffering dreams,
    A lament that echoed eternally in the void.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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