filipp

this page is for my poetic prototypes and my deepest darkest secrets. There is nothing to see here. Don't waste your time.

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  • filipp 15h

    (We )pay( with our )attention.


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 16h

    Draw: Person Creature in the rain, looking at his hand.

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    Rain—
    Let it was away your pain.


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 1d

    Old poem, just editing and reposting. Still needs to be improved. Will do so eventually. Probably one of my favorites of my own. Partially inspired by Dark Soul, the videogame, where there is a blacksmith who ends every sentence with Flame, dear Flame. And also inspired by my first flame and how it was snuffed out by life's rains.

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    Flame, Dear Flame

    Your name, it burns...

    When I learnt of you, dear Flame,
    The hearts you slay,
    The lives you fray,
    When I found you out
    All warmth from you
    Just washed away
    And all that's left
    Is soot and rain;
    No embers left
    In these ashes
    No more words,
    To say, to you
    Dear Flame...

    Now I am back at the forge
    Refining these weapons
    Turning pikes into blades—

    Dear Flame,

    You made me this way...



    The hammer heats... I forge...
    Weapons... of words...


    Flame... Dear Flame...



    ©Filipp

  • filipp 2d

    This moment
    is
    the most important moment
    of your life.


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 2d

    Little things are actually big things.


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 2d

    The eyes will tell you the world
    Dull eyes for a tired one
    Bright eyes for a vibrant one
    The things we see


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 2d

    Con spirit see.


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 2d

    It is a disease of the mind

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    We chase after Life's pleasures,
    Thinking they're the real treasures.

    But they're really not
    What we want,
    What is sought.


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 3d

    The worst trap
    is the one inside you.


    ©Filipp

  • filipp 3d

    Draw: Person Creature in a field of flowers, with wind blowing and petals flying. The shape of his lost love, Persona Creature, is made in the air before him, reaching out with a fading hand. He reaches for it.

    Or Person Creature hiking up a mountain in a. Blizzard, with the faint shape of Persona nearby, beckoning.

    Or he is huddled up and sleeping in a cave on a mountain, beside a smoldering campfire, with the shape of Persona made from the wisps.

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    We spend
    our lives
    chasing
    fading
    dreams


    ©Filipp