Death & Co.


Death & Co.

A small insight of Death and his instruments. A reference of anything mixed in with Death.  All labeled and accounted for. Still in working condition and sadly still used every single day.

(Dissected and torn apart bit by bit for the perception of you and I.)

Instrument #1 :  Murder

Someone studies it everyday

Just like a specimen;

It is a form of art

So carefully planned

Yet so recklessly


Instrument #2 : Murderer

Hands covered on the surface of a blood-splattered face

Hands wrapped around a petty key to a homicide

Already dead and already gone;

Just waiting for the guilt to leave;

Waiting for the pain to just


Continue reading “Death & Co.”

Tell Me Another Story



Tell me another Story

One about a trail of bread crumbs

Tell me another Story

One about a beautiful princess with golden hair that would strech for miles

Tell me another Story

One about a kind, loving girl who lost one glass shoe

Tell me another Story

One about a princess with raven dark hair, snow white skin, and cherry red lips

Tell me another Story

One about a little mermaid who wished to be human

Tell me another Story

One about a cursed prince with the lifespan of a rose

Tell me another Story

One about a curious young girl who fell into a rabbit hole

Tell me another Story

One about a boy, a giant, and beanstalk

I know every Story yet

So why don’t you tell me

A story yet spoken

A story yet known

Start from

Once upon a Time


It Hurts



The words aim to fly towards me like missiles and bombs.

Try that I will, I won’t let them hurt me.

Burning me down.

Tormenting me, till I fall to my buckled knees.



Protesting against my existence.

The words!

The haunt my days and nights, they give me some of the worst thoughts like suicide.

They tattoo you with words that will literally stay with you. They shout those words even if they don’t know the meaning of them. They say: idiot, moron, and drama queen, jerk. Is there a word to describe the thing they do? Yes, there is: bullying.

I just… it … hurts so bad… STOP… those words… THEY HURT!

Now they switch with my ripped jeans and old t-shirt. They switch to my place. Now they know what it means; now they know it’s a poison that no medicine can cure you or protect you from.



A figure, lean and starved, plodded through the endless, barren wasteland. Stray flakes of snow swirling around him, the man seemed like a phantom, his outline quavering, as if hesitant. He trudged on, his thin, patched boots leaving grey prints in the slush, shivering in his thin rags. The icy chill pierced his skin like needles, the frost glazing his skin and burning like fire. He looked up, eyes weary, at the full moon above him. He was basked in a silvery glow, almost glittering in the moonlight. A tendril of cold snaked up his jacket, and he quaked, pulling his threadbare coat closer to his skin, trying to protect what warmth his emaciated body still possessed. Continue reading “Destiny”