Jul 31, 2025
Poetry, accursed flame.
The sounds and the noises, why does it hurt?
It burns and it burns, a flame so accursed,
I can't let myself show,
I can't escape from the hell —
The knowledge that life is constant hurt,
Because the way we were designed is just fucked.
Destiny's unjust sword,
Cuts at our bones and recuts at our bones,
Until even walking becomes impossible,
Because everything decided that you were just not supposed to be born.
You cannot escape,
From endless pain,
It is just the way,
That we are fucking made.
But still, there is something which doesn't allow —
You to turn ashen and cold,
Your fire may be accursed,
But it still lives on,
Even if you yourself don't.
And the flames will always burn on.
