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The Forlorn Shadow's Den. [CW: Poetry/Other Misc Stuff.]


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Heyo, Hukuna Sensei here. Welcome to the Forlorn Shadow's Den!

This is a place for me to write things on my mind in more more expressive fashion. It is sort of a online stress ball for me. I figure some of you may wish to see this work and I might as well share it with people if I am going to do it. While I will be providing a Feedback/Discussion Thread for you guys to discuss the works written here, I will not be utilizing any of that feedback within these exercises. That is not the point of this thread and it never will be. This is not for my improvement and it is certainly not going to be up to par all the time. It is just a place for me to express things in the way I want to. This won't be regularly updated as it is kinda a place for me to destress and unwind and not something I plan to update on a schedule.

The discussion thread can be found here.

Forlorn Shadow: ((Sonnet structure and rhyme but no particular meter.))

Naught, but for one Shadow sits on yonder peak

He is I, and I he

Into the valley underneath, his heart leaks

Below, the scene his very soul wishes to see.

They run about in the valley below

Other spirits, full of great cheer

They are ones that make the Shade's soul glow

But yet, The Shadow sits as the peak's lonely amir.

For ties bind his heart, keep it enticed

Connected to the others by invisible bond

One that is many times made of gentle ice

but oft, thorns of black from the beyond.

Is it worth the teen for this bond of friend?

Aye, until the dark and often bloody end.

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Iron Walls:

Iron walls line the corridor

They are unbending, but broken.

They have yet to be seen by any

as the location it is unspoken.

Only those guided by the Shadow

May walk these halls of this heart.

The walls have been seen now by few,

it isn't much but it is a start.

The Shadow has shown some his heart,

and so the Iron walls, they crumble even more.

For the walls weren't needed, a farce

Now that he can let go to the walls of iron, his heart now soars.

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Alone and Forgotten:

No! Anything! Anything but this!

The Shadow screamed in despair

He was there nothing around him

Nothing but silence and air.

It was maddening, the silence thick like mist

It became a thick and oppressive stare

a black visage with eyes orange and grim

a living fear, the embodiment of a nightmare.

"It is to be your fate Shadow." the face proclaimed

The glare still writhing on it face of black smoke

It laughed heartily as the Shadow cowered in fear

"Heh, you are pathetic. I don't feel sorry at all for you bloke."

It words stung, they were what the Shadow thought of itself

The shadow feared this more than anything else.

He didn't want to think these thoughts, but he did it everyday

How no one could care about a shade.

Who in their right mind would want to stand by he?

"No one could care about a Shade, not even me."

The face, it knew even the Shadow's thoughts?

Was nothing sacred anymore?

But then slowly the pieces fell together.

The Shadow realized that visage, wasn't even there

It was the disquiet of his own heart

It came from the very depths of his despair

That from the world he would be forever apart.

He feared that most

That while he retreated from the world

That he would become a ghost

and everyone would forget him as time slowly swirled.

The visage, it was him

a beast made entirely of his anger

with those eyes orange and grim

It didn't want to be forgotten no matter the danger.

It would fight forever even if it meant scorning ever friend

Because it couldn't take being forgotten again.

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Why:

My heart grows heavy in my chest... What do I even fight for?

Do I fight for the people that can't fight for themselves?

Do I fight for something noble even?

Do I fight because I have to?

Do I fight because now I know nothing else?

Why must everything be embroiled in eternal conflict?

There never a day goes by without fighting, without the spread of pain

Not just physical pain, but that which affects the soul, the spirit and the mind

I don't want there to be pain by there is no way for it to all just stop.

No matter what I do, someone, somewhere will feel some form of it

No matter how noble I am, how many I try to protect

There will be someone I cannot help, someone I can do nothing for

It makes me feel small.

Like all the difference I make is naught beside the size of the universe.

But, is it still worth it?

Yes.

If I can make even one person's day, one small smile.

That is all I need to feel like I have at least done something

That I have at least done something in this world

I only hope that some other soul realizes me sometime

That someone sees me and tries to make me smile.

Because if that happens, I know there are others

Those whatever they could to ease the pain of others

and that I am not alone in this world

That I am not the only one who struggles with this everyday.

Sometimes I want to just give up

It would be easier than battling with all the hurt and pain in my own life.

It would be so much easier to just give up

But, I can't give up.

Even the small differences, they do something.

As long as I have time, I will do what I can to bring smiles to faces

or enlighten them, make them think

Something to help them get their mind off the things they don't want to think of for awhile.

Cause it is all I can do

But something is better than nothing

It may not solve those issues

But at least not every moment will have be filled with pain.

There will be something to look back at

something they can enjoy remembering

It is those memories that I wish to spread

however I can.

So, I don't want to give up.

Even if it would be easy.

Easy isn't the only thing that matters

Sometimes, the difficult things are the ones we must do.

So, I will just pick up this pen

and I will keep writing

I will do what I can

The thing I know how to do.

No longer am I a Forlorn Shadow,

for I see what I must do

I am not afraid anymore

One day, I will find my home.

Hopefully, everyone else in this world

Hopefully, they find their's too.

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No More Heros:

There are no more songs

no more accounts of bravery

The bard's no longer sing

Their tunes no longer drift through the halls.

The age of heros now gone

History now lost, fleet and wavering

For now there is nothing worthy to sing

There is no reason, for they only appall.

Done are the days of grand feats

Done are the days of glory

There is no such fancies anymore

No grandeur, no more adventures.

They fall one by one, like wheat

The old ideals, dim and dreary

They shall be nevermore

Now only met with horrid censures.

Today we value many other things, for better or worse.

The days of heros now done, those tales now trapped in verse.

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Wind blows wistfully through the air, a blade amongst the the world. A blade that chooses not to cut, not to destroy. It restrains the blood lust deep within. Grace, beauty. It is hard to keep up that air, that persona, when below the surface bubbles something darker. Easily it could whip and lash the world around it. Crush things under it's might, and destroy what it pleased. It yet it does not. Like the sea. It holds the same facade. It wears a pretty mask just like the wind. One of crystal blue and greens. In its bosom it holds boats that dare sail it. It could crush them as if they were a dry matchstick. It could destroy them within an instant and yet, it does not. But, when the two can't take it anymore they combine... they create mighty storms. Things of pure destruction. Hurricanes, typhoons, and other storms. They crash upon the world in rage and anger. Why? What does the Sea and the Wind have to be angry about? It may never be known.

I am like them. I hold my anger, my emotions close to my chest. I don't want the world to see the ugly things. I want them to see what I am, who I am. I don't want them to see the creature that writhes below the surface. The dark shadow of self-doubt, the demons within. For my greatest enemy is myself. The creature within that tells me I am worthless. The being that makes me wish I weren't here. It nearly takes on it's own kind of life sometimes. It wraps around my soul and crushes it. It is a stifling feeling. One that doesn't really quite ever go away. And the worst part? I fear it. I fear that I am worthless and that no one loves me. I fear that no one could ever care about someone like me. I feel as if I can never truly connect to people, because they would never want to get to know someone like me. Someone as useless worthless and pitiful as me. I am afraid no one will ever want to care about, let alone love someone like me. It eats at me every day and it drives me nuts. It keeps ringing in my head and it never really stops. But that is because I keep it in there. I don't express those ugly feelings much. I let them fester, rot, and ferment. They putrefy in my soul and make it hurt. And rather than it turn on others, it turns inward. It eats away at myself. It is crippling. It saps my motivation and my want to do things, my want to be myself. "You're not good enough." That rings in my head and throughout my soul. Anything I try, I shoot down myself. I tell myself I will never be any good at it so why bother? If I can't even be good why try? You are worthless at that, stop doing it. I get frustrated, I set standards I can never reach. I do it to myself. And I can't stop doing it. I just do it. Only when it has eaten at me and stewed for far to long, will it turn into rage. My hatred towards myself will shoot outward, like a storm. And it will harm the ones that actually do care. The people I am too blind to see. The ones I take for granted. The people who stand by m e everyday and hold my hand through all of this stuff. They do that despite me being broken. They don't care. You learn a lot about people seeing what they will do for a friend. There are people, who would do anything for me. They would probably move mountains or part seas for me. I would do the same for each and every one of them. I would do anything for a friend. But I wouldn't do anything for myself. I don;t often stand up for myself, but I will vehemently fight for a friend until the bitter end. I value others more than myself...

Or at least I did at one point. I no longer do. I can look at myself and feel like I am a good person, one who matters. Many people I have meet along the way have taught me this. And not even in a direct way. Just being with them talking to them and learning about them, it has shown me such. I have learned that to care about others truly... I must care about myself first. I Had to learn to love who I was before I could ever care truly about another person and move on. I still struggle every now and then, I don't think I will ever not do so. I fear losing the people that I call friends. I fear I will lose them because they want nothing to do with someone like me. I still fear it. I don't want to ever be forgotten again tossed to the side like nothing. I don't want to want to be alone ever again. Being alone... the only person I have to talk to is myself... the thoughts they grow maddening. They start to stack against you, they start to make you hate yourself. They fester in there causing damage to the soul. But, as long as I have at least someone to sit next to, somebody there with me in the darkness, it isn't so dark. I don;t need someone to lecture me, tell me what to do. I just need someone who doesn't mind sitting there next to me and wallowing within my pain. I might unload it unto to them, but if they are willing to bear that weight, it makes the load much lighter. It allows me to free my soul from the weight of my own self-doubt, my insecurities and my pain. And for them, I would do the same. I don;t need to be told what to do, I just need someone there with me a silent observer, one who doesn't want to judge or ridicule.

As Long as I have one person to hold my hand in the darkness, I will be alright. As such I don't wish anyone else to be alone in that forest. It is dark and grim in there. Alone could easily be the death of you. Therefore I will always be the shoulder and the hand. I will not lecture, and I will not judge. I will only listen and guide. I will not force the matters and I will not correct. I would do what I want another to do for me. I would wnat them to stay by my side. Therefore It is where I will be, never too far away. I won't let anyone else face that shadow alone if they don't have to. I almost lost once, and I wouldn't be here typing this to you now if I had. I hope I can only help others avoid that dark path and to never go down it in the first place. It is a dark and slippery road. One that has a quick end and a tragic one. I don;t want others to see that road. It is a horrible place and one filled with despair. It is something no one should ever have to experience. I wish to do anything I can to keep that from happening where I can. I have been there and got near the end of that path and almost walked off the cliff at the end. But, I turned around. ANd I did that on my own. Before I had anyone who would ever think to stand next to me. So, hopefully I can help someone stray away from that path. I might be too idealistic when it comes to this, but it is something I don;t want to be in the world. I will do anything I can to fight it. Not matter what. I don;t want anyone else to feel that way. It is unachievable for that pain comes far to easily these days. But If I can even stop it once... I will be happy. That would be one person I helped and it would be a difference. No matter how small a difference is a difference. Even if it never puts a dent in the problem at large, it was still something.

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The Snow's Journey:

A light snow falls onto an open field. Like ashes, they they slowly float down, sticking to anything they touch. They cling for dear life before melting away quickly. The first throw their bodies down, but they quickly perish as they met the ground. They don't stick very well or for very long. Sadly, their corpses melt away so the brave first can;t even be remembered they are there, they do their duty... and then they vanish without a trace. But still, the snow keeps falling. Each Flake desperately presses itself to the ground trying to make a spot for itself, and later for it friends, family and loved ones. But many many still perish. The ground not quite cold. However, after a cascade eventually they start to stay. They overwhelm the ground's power. One cannot easily take care of many. For there is but one earth, but there are many snowflakes. Eventually their numbers overwhelm. They cling to each other now for dear life. They hope they can keep each other cold enough to not melt and wither away. Some watch their loved one die in their arms, as they shout and scream and cry. They did everything they could. That sacrifice would not be in vain. Eventually, the field would be covered in a white fluffy snow. One that had a slight crunch as you walked, but you could almost kick it about like a fine sand. Most of their work now finished the snow took a break. They had struggled enough to get here, it was time to sit back and not over exert themselves. They sit silently, contemplating what it took to got there. They remember every life that was lost in them being there, and they cherished each and everyone of them. On their forced exodus from the sky, many brave souls went first. They paved the way for the others. Each now gone forever.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Lupo di Fulmine's Oath:

May my lightning crack the sky. May it fly true and smite the wicked. May it shield the innocent from harm. May it strengthen me to defend others. I am Lupo di Fulmine, The Wolf that rides the lightning. The one who takes weight of the world so others need not. My thunder echos in the deep, and my lightning, the blade of the downtrodden. I stand at the edge of the world, ready for anything.

I shall not rest while wickedness rules the lives of others. My lightning shall bring light to their darkness. It shall bathe it in the light of daring. Before the light, darkness shall fall. And until all the darkness be banished from this tumultuous world, my work is never done. For I will destroy the darkness. I shall banish that which ails others, and take it upon myself, so they need not do so. My work will never be done, but that doesn't mean I cannot dare to try.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I hate ideals and everything to do with Idealism. And yet, I find that I am an Idealist. It is a strange thing to realize, that you loathe the very being you are in part. But, it is hard to help that in such a case. I hate the very notion of it, the very thought of what an ideal is. A standard held so far above someone's head, that it can never be realistically obtained. They are what society holds us to; The blunt instruments they use to beat us into submission and curb the ways we act. They corral us, and force us to be the way society wishes us to be. They are broken goals, dreams, fantasies, the things we wish we could be, but cannot. They restrict, break and ruin people. But, I cannot hate them entirely. For they do bring good with them as well. For every side there is another. If we flip the coin, on the other side lies hope and beauty. Ideals... they give us something to strive for, to live for. They are something we can chase in an effort to better our self. And, no matter how endless that chase we must do it any way. Because how can one know something is hopeless if they never dare to try? If they never dare to strive towards the horizon, they can never know that it cannot be reached. If you don't try you will never truly know, and that is why you must try anyway. When you realize, you become one of the damned like me I suppose. How clearly I can see the beauty in it, and yet the evil that preys on the blind and the daft. Those that allow themselves to be lead without looking at their path without understanding it. And yet those that do understand, are damned to realize just how horrible the path that lies before them is. How black and twisted it is. How to move forward, we must drive ourselves towards a goal we can never reach, a Horizon we will always see, but never touch. It will forever be out of our grasps. But we cannot go back, nor can we sit still and not move. If we did that, how would we know if we didn't just give up to early, that because we gave up... that it was our lack of will and fortitude that caused us to lose the grasp of the horizon? Would it have been our fault that it slipped through our fingers? And that is why we must press on towards the hopeless horizon, for if we stop we never know we couldn't reach it. Besides, there is another silver lining in all of this. What if we prove our self wrong? What if we do touch the horizon? Well, I wouldn't mind losing then if I could achieve that. And if we are right about it? Right that we cannot touch the horizon? Well, then we were correct all along. We were right in the end and we called that it couldn't done. And that means whether we are wrong or right, we win. We win both ways. Why play the game when you can lose? If you have the option to always win... why not seize the moment, and take that opportunity? That is how one forges their own destiny. Seizing those opportunities in the palm of their hand.

It is a pain to be that which you hate... the thing you loathe most. It could very easily tear you apart at the seams. But, it is a necessary evil to rig the game, to put all the chips on your side, and in your favour. It is a path not everyone can walk, but I choose to because it is the only path I know, the only path that makes sense. I contradict myself, so that I can forge forward. Every action, to prove myself wrong to see just how right I am. And If I am right, I win. And if I am wrong, I find something so beautiful truly does exist. And guess what... that means I still win. I will win... because I cannot lose. You can only lose if you see everything as win or lose. There is never two states of opposition. There are infinite possibilities. One only need open their eyes, and look for them.

I live on the razor's edge, the path that lies within the middle. I could fall off either side into despair; I could lose who I am. And yet, I still walk. I put one foot in front of the other and I tread onward. Because, I am not afraid to chase the horizon and I am not afraid to be who I am. I am not afraid to go against the very fiber of my being. I dare to dare, and I chase that which I cannot catch... because if it wasn't a struggle, it wouldn't be worth chasing.

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  • 4 months later...

World of Glass:

We live but in a world of glass...

Many types of glass,

But, glass all the same.

It's all fragile,

Breaking within a mere instant,

a fraction of a second for a fraction.

Sometimes, it's one way glass,

We cannot see what lies in store on the other side,

And yet those on the otherside can see it crystal clear.

They can keep it from us,

or change the glass for us to see

But sometimes it's better not seeing.

Sometimes it's best not to see,

Not to see the horrible truth,

The one that will shatter the world around you.

And the shards come tumbling down,

You try to catch them before they hit,

Before they shatter even more.

But, you can't move that quickly,

You can't save them all,

You must choose what's important.

But... everything's important,

Everything's important,

How do you sacrifice any part of yourself?

In the moment you're paralyzed,

overwhelmed by the things that lie before you,

You don't know what to do.

Everything you know is crashing around you,

The world you thought you knew,

Now just a mess of broken glass.

Now what do you do?

Do you put it together?

Do you try and salvage that which you can?

Or do you start anew?

Or do you just give up?

The questions,

The never stop relenting,

Banging against the inside of your mind.

*tink* *tink* *bang* *bang*

It gets louder and louder,

They bang on the glass threatening to break it,

to break the last thing you got left.

Your sanity.

The Emotions,

The Confusion,

The Noise.

It all bangs on the glass trying to break it apart,

to ruin the last thing you have left,

the only thing you couldn't risk to lose.

The glass resonates with a beating sound,

The thrum of the darker side,

Fear... nerves... darker things.

It barely keeps them from over taking you,

From running rampant in your mind,

But, you hold on.

Too much glass has broken today,

There's no room for anymore,

that's what you tell yourself.

Whether it's genuine

Whether it's just trying to hold on to something,

Whether it's something else...

It's all you have. Your sanity... in a world of broken glass.

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  • 3 months later...

Keep Moving Forward:

Keep Moving Forward.

Whether you must run, walk, crawl, or something else,

Keep Moving Forward.

We don't have time to dwell on the past,

It's lessons important, but not to fixate on,

Keep Moving Forward.

Even in the darkest times,

When you don't feel like you can,

Like your paralyzed and know not what to do,

Keep Moving Forward.

If you stop, you'll never move again,

Fear may stop you, nerves, pain, whatever,

Don't let it stop you, don't give it the power,

They are temporary, make them that way

Keep Moving Forward.

Because even when things are ugly,

Because even when things are bleak,

Because even when things are at their lowest,

Because even when you're sure that things will never get better,

They do.

Keep Moving Forward.

If we never come to the other side,

if we let the temporary evils blind us,

If we let them get the upper hand,

If we let them rule out lives,

If we let them consume us,

They win.

So Keep Moving Forward.

Don't Dwell,

Don't Stagnate,

Don't Fester,

Don't Rot,

Don't Fixate,

Don't Stop,

Because you'll never know if you can reach the horizon if you stop moving.

Keep Moving Forward.

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  • 5 months later...

I write, because I bleed. My own blood is my ink. My writing as flawed as it is, is a part of myself. It is my catharsis. Bad blood spilled on paper. It may be dirty, and it may not be pleasant to read at times, but... it's how I can breathe again. It stains paper, so that I may no longer feel that stain in my soul. So, know that. Know that you are seeing something that is trapped within me, know that you are seeing my true self. The one that struggles to be... the one that wishes it could be free from it's inner demons. The ones that won't stop haunting it. Know that I spill my blood on paper... so that I can live. Know that in my blood hitting paper, I heal. Know that spilling my blood on paper is how I am free, how my mind lets go, how I fix my soul. Know that my writing is more than writing. Know, that I am human because rather than destroy... I create. And know that because of it... I will not die.

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