– Emma Reyes Art.

Listen ,

Sounds of

Your heart

Spilling

In my ear ,

A whole

Born

Existence

Before me.

-t.f.s.

soap scum

(ione meraki 2024)

𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊🖤

[please reblog or like if you saved]

Senryū X

Your heart is wounded

in an empty hole all the

way back into soul .

-t.f.s.

"The truth sure can taste very sweet sometimes,but it can be very salty,that's why we love to lie."

Poet is a storm.

I am writing in directions hoping to find the answer,

losing myself in a spiral of unworthiness,

my crazy mind recreated loneliness.

I needed to release the chaos with word,

moulding them into power coming

through a heart of glass that's glowing.

Formed a shape that only words

could come through a mind,

shaving the mud from my arms

to distract the miserable feeling

that caught me off guard.

I myself am not the best writer,

but if my poetry was made of gold,

If my soul burns in fire (motivation),

then i'm proud to be a storm.

-t.f.s.

Deadly virus.

In depths of evil,

fingers in the dirt pray

to welcome God's darkness,

to take us upper in the air.

Floating secrets hidden in minds,

mouths covered with mud

to grow a poison so good,

feel the tearing pleasure,

plague is coming to greet us.

-t.f.s.

Love sparkles in front of our eyes, it brings us light.

And we see it - through awesome pain , through our self's weight , we feel it.

We get more passionate about it , more free and less stressed.

We become what we needed to be , someone's honorable friend.

I pray every moment in my lightning years , to be fulfilled , and the love that has given on earth is all beyond war.

War's not the balance , it is a complex word , in which we live under chains.

War is not a poetry to be told , a smell of a burning field with broken heart, sealed .

Hello,this is my account! There are my writings!But this account's post which i share now,is not gonna be used due to problems with the e-mail information.

Please follow me here!

Only if i could scream against the pain.

That's wow.

Hopefully -

In seven years I’ll be a different person,

And in my stride

I seem to find

That belief an assertion.

It’s not as if I’m struggling,

To find out who I am.

It’s just that thought of deep unrest is bubbling,

To the surface,

Again.

To be alone cathartic,

Apart from life

A part of life.

To regain my composure,

To ensure I find closure.

There are meanings to these thoughts

These thoughts I feel and hold.

There’s times upon the horizon,

Still yet to be told.

There’s loss upon my path, to radiant perfection.

Wether it be at my hands or through times of inflection.

It’s impossible to feel loss,

Without once having had.

So that’s will be my goal,

A story yet untold.

I’ll collect many more memories, and experiences.

And have myself,

To mould.