Azel

Funny how endings don't announce themselves. No music. No pause long enough to understand. Just one last paper, one last tired laugh, one last walk past walls that watched us become people. We complained about mornings, counted minutes like prisoners, called it hell between attendance and exams. But somewhere inside chaos, life quietly happened. And now it's done. No more classrooms. No more weird conversations that somehow made perfect sense. No more looking around at the same faces like we'd have forever. Strange. I wanted it to end so badly. Now that it has, a part of me keeps standing there, outside that last door, not ready to leave. To the noise, the nonsense, the people who made those years something worth remembering goodbye.

Last semester breathing down my neck, theory exams stacked like unpaid debts, final year project whispering “you’re not ready yet.” Internships knocking not asking, demanding proof that I’m more than a name on a half-baked résumé. Lab practicals. where logic dies under pressure and marks depend more on timing than knowledge. And somewhere in the background, last year’s ghosts. backlogs with unfinished business, dragging chains through my present. This isn’t pressure. This is a slow collapse disguised as “final year.” And they still expect calm. Consistency. Performance. Like I’m not drowning in deadlines I never agreed to. So yeah... fuck this CS degree, but quitting would hurt more than whatever this is. And I’ve already survived worse.

Honor is a winter river clear, merciless, unadorned. It does not warm the hands that hold it. It cuts them. And asks if they will hold it still.

“To stand by your blood and your brotherhood is to honor the sacred law of life.”

To live without hope is freedom; to live with faith is purpose. The wise walk where both meet.

Mouth fucked raw, spit on tongue, Choke on cock ‘til your song’s unsung. Tits gripped tight, bruised and bit, Cunt stretched wide, dripping spit. I drag you open, no sweet lie, You split for me I hear you cry. You’re just holes wet, wrecked, obscene, A fuckpet made to serve my scene. Good girl? No. You're my disgrace, Marked by spit across your face. I fuck the brat right out your soul, Then fill you up — that’s total control.

Hollow winds whisper your name, Another year lost to the void. Pale flames flicker, barely alive, Passing seconds cannot be destroyed. Yesterday fades, but the darkness remains. Blood-red skies watch without sound, In the shadows, time grins wide. Remnants of dreams sink underground, Truth and oblivion stand side by side. Hope is a flicker, fragile and thin, Daylight retreats, but you still exist. Another year, another sin, Yet the abyss grants no wish.

The morning sings in golden tones, I stretch, I laugh, I’m on my own. A cigarette, a sip of tea, The world feels made just right for me. The breeze is soft, my steps are light, Each moment warm, each color bright. And sure, a quiet ache remains, A distant tug, some gentle strains. But joy still hums beneath my skin, With every breath I’m reeling in. Alone, not lost—just free and wide, With sun and smoke and peace inside.