Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: suffocation

  • The Abyss of Oppression

    The Abyss of Oppression

    The abyss of oppression was a realm of shadows and fear where hope decayed,
    And a silent grip began its play, winding in a dark embrace,
    And pulling everything into a hollow alcove.

    In haunted kingdoms, gloomy clouds distressed tranquillity,
    The poundage of insanity was so cruel and cold,
    That no hope dared to hold dreams and expectations anymore,
    While sinking in the deep and poisoned blight of fear.

    Starlight grew frail like a fragile gem,
    In an eerie aura that stained the sky dead,
    Beneath, where the sun had lost its way,
    Where longings lay cast but ghostly grey.

    In dismay, sorrow spoke aloud under the oppression’s grasp in endless nights,
    When despair rose to heights unknown,
    And fragile desires trembled in the invisible void,
    The weight of loss bore down, relentless, keen,
    As the oblivion feasted on the faint heart’s prayer.

    In that desolate realm where no light could endure,
    And where silence was torn by unheard wails,
    Weary hearts, caught in iron chains,
    Clung to fragments of memories grown pale.

    The skies collapsed like a suffocating veil,
    Where chimaeras, once shining, dissolved to dust and ash,
    And all that remained was a forlorn lament,
    As the abyss of oppression drew down in a final crash.

    The chasm of illusions swallowed every expectation,
    Leaving but a decayed vestige of misery and distress.
    Every gleam of promise faded into hollow whispers of betrayal,
    While enchanting raindrops soaked every dream in a sorrowful mire.

    In the shadows, spells enticed those solitary dreamers into fractured and senseless ravines of despair,
    Trapping them for eternity.
    Darkness claimed the last faint gleam,
    And despair surged forth like a relentless stream.

    In this realm of night, the shadows reigned supreme,
    Binding dreams in chains, silencing the soul’s scream.
    The abyss of oppression annihilated every mirth and delight, beauty and magnificence,
    Leaving a kingdom of chaos and insignificance.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Death Behind Dreams

    The Death Behind Dreams

    The Death Behind Dreams
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The death behind dreams was a consequence of illusion and betrayal. The world of dreams had always been the only refuge for her—a realm where the rules of reality no longer applied, where the impossible became tangible, and where the weight of life could be forgotten. But now, even her dreams had turned against her, becoming a prison of their own making. She no longer awoke with a sense of wonder but with a deep, gnawing dread. The dreams were darker now, twisted into nightmares that she could not escape. Each time she closed her eyes, she knew what awaited her on the other side—a place where every hope went to die.

    She found herself standing in a vast, empty field, the sky above her a sickly shade of gloominess. The air was filled with misery and decay, and the ground beneath her feet was soft and yielding, as though it might be ready to swallow her whole at any moment. In the distance, she could see shadowy shapes moving, but no matter how far she walked, they remained just out of reach. They whispered to her words she could not understand, their utterances carrying a sense of foreboding that chilled her to the bone.

    She tried to wake herself up, to break free from the grip of dreams, but her body would not respond. It was as though she had been trapped in that surreal realm, forced to endure the nightmare with no expectancy of escape. The death behind dreams was behind the line between reality and the dream world, which had blurred, and she no longer knew which was which. The days had become a blur of fear and distress, and the nights were worse. Sleep had once been a solace, but now it was an exhausting curse.

    With each passing night, her dreams became more flamboyant, and her sense of dread became more assertive. She wandered through frightening labyrinths that twisted and turned in unimaginable ways, leading her deeper into the darkness. The walls seemed to close in around her, and the meadow seemed to alter into suffocating thorns. She could hear her own heartbeat, a steady thrum of panic that echoed in her ears. She was suffocating, drowning in an ocean of shadows with no way out.

    And always, there was a presence lurking behind the dreams, watching her, waiting. It was the death behind dreams, a force that stripped away all joy and hope and left nothing but despair in its eternal slumber.

  • Trapped Inside

    Trapped Inside

    Trapped inside
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    She was trapped inside those walls of stone,
    Trapped inside a box that was too small for the hope of finding a home.
    The air was void, the light was none,
    And every breath weighed more than lead.

    She scratched, she pounded, she screamed in vain,
    But silence mocked her endless strain.
    The box did not relent nor break,
    As fate tightened the chains of her fate.

    The walls were near, yet out of reach,
    Their cold touch whispered of defeat.
    Each corner held a darker shade,
    As light and hope began to fade.

    Cruel fate, the weaver of that snare,
    Threaded her despair with bitter care.
    An unseen hand that bound her soul,
    Ensuring that she would never be whole.

    She twisted, she turned, she tried to flee,
    But every movement tightened her.
    Her mind, a prisoner of its own,
    A labyrinth of fears unknown.

    Fate laughed, a sound so cold and bare,
    As dreams dissolved into burnt air.
    The box was small, yet endless too,
    A world she could not travel through.

    And so she sat, resigned, alone,
    That box, her cage, became her throne.
    No door to open, no path to take,
    Just fate and nothingness were the cruel architects of deception.

    In that confined, eternal space,
    She saw no end, no saving grace.
    The walls closed in, the ceiling fell,
    And she was lost within its hell.

    Fate smiled, its grip tight and strong,
    As she remained where she belonged.
    In that box, that wretched place,
    She faced the truth, the final trace.

    That there she’d stay, trapped and bound,
    By fate’s decree, without a sound.
    Trapped inside, with no light to find
    And no rescue to find.

    That box owned her for eternity,
    Trapped inside fate,
    Trapped in silence,
    Trapped inside death,
    With no escape.

  • The Mirror of Despair

    The Mirror of Despair

    The mirror of despair stood like a monolith,
    A monolith, unmoved, defiant.
    Before that cursed glass, shadows loomed,
    And light would pass, leaving darkness consumed.

    Once it held the grace of life,
    Now, only hollow faces survived.
    The air grew poisonous, a burden to bear,
    A chill that whispered, don’t you dare.

    Cold breath hung in the air, a fleeting mist,
    A ghostly trace that once existed.
    The surface touched, cold as stone,
    Yet deeper still, a soul felt alone.

    The mirror of despair exhaled a sorrow so vast,
    Trapping a soul within the past.
    A scream clawed up, lodged in the throat,
    But all that came was silence’ coat.

    A voice was lost, like fading light,
    Consumed by dread, engulfed by night.
    The reflection showed not just a face,
    But every fear that none would trace.

    Youth decayed, bones turned brittle,
    Skin faded grey, and life became little.
    Colours drained from joy and life,
    Each moment was replaced by endless strife.

    The mirror of despair pulled deeper still,
    Into a world that froze all will.
    A heart, once whole, now torn apart,
    Reflected back in shards of dark.

    Each fragment whispered death’s embrace,
    No warmth, no light, no saving grace.
    Graves appeared, their earth undone,
    And in those pits lay the one.

    A figure frail, devoid of breath,
    Caught in the arms of endless death.
    Turning away was not allowed,
    Something held firm, no escape endowed.

    The pull of doom, a heavy chain,
    Bound this soul to eternal pain.
    The mirror’s depths revealed no end,
    Only endless dread, no hope to mend.

    Shadows closed in, all around,
    A suffocating, endless bond.
    The weight of death felt so near,
    Its breath was so cold, its touch so clear.

    It whispered low, in the ear so slow,
    That all was lost; no light could show.
    Cracks spread wide across the glass,
    Like spiders’ webs that grew en masse.

    Each line it split tore at the soul,
    A mirror now of death’s control.
    And there stood a figure, consumed by dread,
    A living soul among the dead.

    The mirror of despair held a final sigh,
    A grim reflection left to die.
    The hours blurred, the days bled dry,
    Lingering there, without knowing why.

    No future lay beyond the glass,
    Just shadows of a life that passed.
    Each breath became a hollow sound,
    A heart that barely dared to pound.

    Lingering there, devoid of air,
    In endless, hopeless, cold despair.
    No warmth could reach this haunted place,
    No hope could heal what’s been erased.

    A ghost within the glass remained,
    And death, it seemed, forever chained.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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