ghost_of_a_raven

✨Monachopsis(n) the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place✨ Hitrecord: _blue_raven Commaful: blueraven

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  • ghost_of_a_raven 130w

    Love is hard (but would it be beautiful if it wasn't?)
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    Written at 2 in the morning last night, so who knows about the quality, but I feel it expresses something I needed to share.
    #love #lovepoems #unrequitedlove #poem #poetry #lovepoetry #sad #love #poetry

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    The branch or the bird?

    Sometimes I wonder if you see me.
    I know you do - physically, anyway.
    But do your eyes truly see me?
    Peer into my soul? Study every illiterate word?
    I know they don't.

    My heart seems to fly to every perch it sees.
    Easy in love - but reluctant to leave.
    Heart after heart - what draws me in?
    And why the bird never leave?
    The sweet dove - perched upon a thorned branch.

    This unrequited love, I've tried to stop.
    To cage up my heart. Clip its wings.
    Because so much we lament about unrequited love. Day after day.
    Song after song.

    But I wonder, if truly - is it so bad?
    For we never consider the other side.
    To be the object of such constraining affection.
    The branch that can't help it's formed exterior. Can't help but hurt the birds that flock to it.

    And I wonder, in this life, which is more painful?
    The branch or the bird?
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 147w

    I've fallen for someone who doesn't see me.
    #love #unrequitedlove #short #quote #inlove

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    Wish

    With all my heart I hold you near.
    I can't help but wish you saw me.
    But you never do.
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 147w

    A light that dies

    There used to be a light here.
    It was never meant to disappear.
    There used to be a light here.
    But it's strings were pulled by a clever puppeteer.
    There used to be a light here.

    Let me tell you the story of a light that dies.
    A light suffocated by the dark skies.
    Let me tell you the story of a light that dies.
    It flickered away, never to rise.

    There is only darkness now.
    Nothing but sorrow and darkness now.
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 147w

    People say you see your life flash before your eyes in death, a film playing through your eyes of who you loved and what you did. So is it not true, that in our end, we see our beginning?
    #universe #paradox #memories #endoftheworld #immortality #death #dark #fantasy

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    In my end is my beginning

    The end of the universe was hauntingly beautiful. Stars clustered together in glimmers of purple and blue, and white fire swirled through the sky in suffocating vines, blisteringly bright and pure white. Nothing ever lasts forever, not even a witch’s curse passed into my bloodstream, amplified by demonic energy can withstand the fire I could feel burning my scarred, youthful skin. It is in the end of the universe that I remember a lifelong past, a life of vampires and witches, beasts and ghosts. A life of shadows and family. For I had a home once. A home in a mist shrouded town in the land of dreams, far away from my fairy-tale birthplace. A town marred by violence and fear but home to a group of people who were closer than blood. People who fitted in nowhere, lived as outcasts who discovered a place.

    I found that place and I treasured it, I held it close to my heart. The story of my existence, thousands and thousands of years ago when I was young and afraid. I lived amongst shadows that haunted my head and hunted my heart and enveloped me in darkness. But I was not alone. Now I stand alone watching the universe fall into itself as fire burns around me.

    It is here I will die. Surrounded by a beautiful galaxy full of rich colours and stars and bright lights. The end of the universe was beautiful like a blood rose looks beautiful against dying snow. The beginning of my universe was just as paradoxical, dark shadows with hopeful glimmers and a dilapidated town home to the strongest family I ever knew. In my death, I see a star for each of my lost family, I see the same shadows that greeted me, I see the same stars that I looked upon that night, I see remnants of a town that was my home. I see it all as I die.

    In my end, I see my beginning.
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 172w

    #acrostic @mirakee @writersnetwork
    H U M A N S
    (Image not mine)

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    Acrostic - humans

    How do we speak without heart?
    Up in the clouds, with ancestors long past
    My heart lies there, away with them.
    Across the valley, a gentle grave lies still
    Now I know, what it is to be human
    So I cry, I cry for the lost, because I am human
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 172w

    The darkness enveloped the room in an endless abyss, and two figures cowered in the corner. The first started to creep forward, silently like a cat prowling through darkness. Strange noises echoed throughout the room, strange noises that resembled a whining monster, and a shrieking ghost. One of the children’s name was Ava, and she carefully used the wall to pull herself off the floor. Something caught her wrist, and she cried out in terror, ripping her wrist away and stumbling backwards. As she peered into the darkness, a quiet voice sounded: “It’s just me! Where are you going?” The voice asked, speaking in a hushed tone. “I wanted to find a door” Ava whispered in reply, standing up with shaking limbs, “There has to be a door, there’s always a door”

    Ava was met with no reply, and she continued to run her hands along the tough, cold wall, searching for anything that could resemble an escape. The strange noises rang out again, louder this time, shrill and piercing, a knife cutting through the air. Ava flinched away from the sound as if it would lash out and hurt her. Carefully, Ava continued to venture forward, and her hand scratched against something sharp and wooden. Drawing her hand back with a start, something trickled down her stinging hand. She called out in excitement. “Lissa! I found a door! We’re going to get out! We’re going to be okay!” she threw her head back, but couldn’t see the other girl, Clarissa, through the thick, suffocating, blanket that covered them. “But what if the doors locked?” Clarissa’s heavy footsteps tapped on the floor as she searched for her friend in the dark.

    With fumbling fingers, Ava searched for a handle, her hand trembling uncontrollably. Finally, she discovered a cold, metal object and turned it. As the door clicked, the strange noises suddenly grew louder, a deafening, high pitched scream. Clarissa and Ava sank to the floor, covering their ringing ears, the noises continuing to get louder. A tormented wail, rocking the room like an earthquake rocking a house.

    Clutching her head, Ava’s vision flickered, and she curled up. The pain in her head was intolerable, excruciating and she screamed and cried out in agony. The sweet release of oblivion came too slowly, and Ava’s head hit the floor with a thud, her tense, shaking muscles relaxing almost immediately as she lay in a peaceful sleep.

    - - - - -

    A sweet, harmonic melody danced in Ava’s head, and the soft floor beneath her covered her in a warm embrace, like a loved one’s arms. Ava turned her head, and saw Clarissa sitting beside her, smiling serenely and playing with a daisy. She tucked the daisy in her brown hair, and looked at Ava with wide, innocent eyes. “Finally, you’re awake!” Clarissa explained, and Ava sat up.
    “Have I been asleep?” Ava blinked in confusion and looked around her. She lay in a field of laughing flowers, peaceful and tranquil. The glowing sun was a bright, cheerful light in the sky, welcoming all the birds and the bees and the butterflies.

    A peaceful, graceful butterfly fluttered past Ava’s face, and she held out her hand. It had delicate wings, with bright colours that shone like jewels. The butterfly danced in the gentle breeze, like a stunning ballerina performing their most elegant dance. In silent admiration, Ava watched the butterfly disappear into the sapphire sky. Turning to her friend with a glimmering smile, Ava picked a flower and passed it to Clarissa, who smiled brightly at Ava. “It’s nice here” Ava murmured softly.
    “I know” Clarissa looked up at the sky with sparkling eyes, watching the clouds drift through the sky in a thousand patterns. Ava noticed a bird, perched on the tree, it’s bright colours reflecting the light like a delicate glass statue. It stood like a king, decorated in a million colours with carefully shattered wings. Ava reached up to shake Clarissa’s shoulder and show her the bird, delighted by her exquisite surroundings.

    Her hand slipped through Clarissa’s shoulder like a ghost, and Ava stilled in stunned surprise. Clarissa was still, silent. “Lissa” Ava whispered, voice shaking with a sudden terror. Slowly, the colour started to drain away from Clarissa’s figure, like an artist rubbing out their work, covering it in hidden grey. Ava watched in frozen fear, and the colour drained from Clarissa until she wasn’t even visible. “Lissa” Ava whispered again.
    No one was there.
    She was alone.

    - - - - -

    Ava awoke in a room with a bright, white light. There was a droning, high pitched noise, shrill and loud.

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    Dream state

    Ava noticed a bird, perched on the tree, it’s bright colours reflecting the light like a delicate glass statue. It stood like a king, decorated in a million colours with carefully shattered wings
    - read caption -
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 177w

    Glorified

    We glorify being broken, shattered hearts and tears spilling from eyes. We say it's beautiful when you cry, wake up with nightmares and when your hands shake enough they break glasses.
    We glorify being broken.
    I don't know why.

    We glorify war and fighting. Beautiful blood on the floor like a watercolour sunset. We say that there's a cruel beauty to war and death.
    We glorify war and fighting.
    I don't know why.

    We glorify so much pain, we make it desirable, beautiful.
    But pain is never beautiful, it's never glorious, it just hurts and hurts and hurts.
    Blood is never beautiful, it's just red, it just hurts and hurts and hurts.
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 183w

    I remember shuddering violently, whether it was hot or cold. They said that when you shuddered, it meant someone was walking over your grave. I stand there now, watching people carelessly trample my grave, except now I'm not shuddering. They don't even know, no one but me and her knows that this is my grave. My final resting place.

    I remember feeling the wind in my hair, and the ice on my skin. I don't feel any of that now, I can tell you why, if you like.

    I am the unsettled ghost, who stands at her grave, watching time slip by. I'm dead now, I'll tell you why, if you like.

    It was dark, the twilight had settled and I stood face to face with her. My hands were stained with blood, dark crimson and painfully ironic. I clutched a knife, the blade shone with red and it caught the light beautifully. But it wasn't beautiful, not really, none of it was as poetic as I wrote it. It was just red.

    She stood opposite me, and she looked afraid. Her pale eyes glimmered with grim determination, and in her hand she held a gun, pointed directly at me. Quietly, she murmurs an apology, and I start to wonder why, but the noise of the gun breaks my thoughts.

    It's quick, and loud, but I barely have the time to process it. There's a stinging pain, but I don't feel anything, it's just empty, bleak, silent.

    As I fall into blissful oblivion, my eyes closing in the dark, I realise something. She was never the villian, unreasonable and unreadable. No, I realise, as my life fades away, she was not the villian, and I was not the hero, as I told it. Maybe one day you'll hear the story from her point of view and you'll realise. History is written by victors, and sometimes the lines between good and bad blur. I realise this, and perhaps you will to, one day. I was the villian in this story.

    #ghost #villian #readwriteunite #writing #story #heroandvillian

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    Shudders

    I am the unsettled ghost,
    who stands at her grave,
    watching time
    slip by.
    I'm dead now,
    I'll tell you why,
    if you like.
    (Read caption)
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 187w

    Far away, a kingdom lay hidden in the mountains. It was a kingdom shrouded in a dark cloak, hidden away from the light of the dim sun. Inside the castle stood a queen. Her eyes held the souls of a thousand sacrifices, a thousand dead ghosts that fluttered in her glassy grey eyes. Sometimes, she thought she could hear their laughter, dancing through the echoing halls. But no one was there.

    No one was ever there.

    The queen clutched the walls with bony hands, and as the stars haunted the sky they cast a light on the kingdom of bones. She gazed across the tombstones, engraved with a thousand names she knew. She knew all of them. She'd spend years carving a thousand names into her skin, engraving them into her mind. A thousand dead on her watch.

    She swore to never forget the curse of their names.

    Oh, how great the kingdom had been, favoured by the gods, the young gods who smiled upon her and her king with their divine stare. Her king with the gold crown. The arrogant king who was once kind, not so hardened by war, but with a heart made of gold, and silver skin and emerald eyes.

    They loved him. He drank their approval like a man dying of thirst. How desperate he became, how reliant he became on the people's drug of approval. An addict high up in a castle with an arrogance that stemmed from his throne.

    What good is a crown when it only succeeds in pain. The king with the golden crown. The arrogant king. The Queen with the burnt heart. The broken Queen.

    When Gods fought a war civilisations were brought to rubble. Blood painted the white walls of the castle, the queen could still see the stains now. A dark crimson paint against the war battered marble. Some writers would call it beautiful, a stark contrast of purity and pain. Of innocence and war. The queen disagreed. That blood, it was never poetic, never beautiful. It was just blood. Just red.

    The Queen with the burnt heart had trusted too many people, she had been reckless with her heart, and lost the cage she kept around it. She'd let the key be stolen.

    Of course she'd been betrayed. Betrayal was engrained in human nature. A historic need to survive above all else, to protect one person, and one person only, themselves. Humans where such cruel creatures, amazing, but cruel.

    The most stubborn creatures she'd encountered. Such interesting specimens. But they just couldn't be trusted, they stored away information in their petty brains and hunted you down later. That's the thing about telling people things , you can't close your heart again, you can't take it back.

    Once they know, they can destroy you as soon as the tide turns.

    Humans, they wrote fairytales. Stories of maidens saved by knights. Stories of dragons and gold. Stories of wolves and bears.

    They ended in joy, in unity.

    The queen looked out at her kingdom, drowned in fire and built on corpses. Fairytales, such a strange notion. Written to give hope. But what did hope do when you're cornered by your closest friends.

    Real life was nothing like a fairytale.
    There was never a happy ending.

    #writing #fairytale #dark #darkfairytale #queen #king #royalty #death #betrayal #readwriteunite #fantasy @writersnetwork @readwriteunite

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    A fairytale that went wrong

    This a story of the betrayed. The dying god. The sacrifice. The arrogant King. The burnt heart.
    This is a story with the theme of bloodshed.
    The theme of betrayal. Of God's and Goddesses. Of sacrifices and tombstones. Of kings and queens. Of broken and burnt hearts.
    After all, when you open your heart, you can't close it again
    This is a story without a happy ending.
    This is a fairytale that went wrong.
    - read description -
    ©ghost_of_a_raven

  • ghost_of_a_raven 195w

    Today is 100 years from the end of WW1, and this is my thank you note to the people who made our world what it is today. #thankyou #thankyou100 #100years #soldiers #war #worldwarone #life #death
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    Not my image used

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    Thank you

    Thank you to the soldiers,
    To the soldiers who fought through rain and fire, who built a world that is safe and kind. To the soldiers who came from anotherplace, to the soldiers who came from home, to the soldiers who put on a smile. Thank you.
    Thank you to the nurses and doctors,
    To the nurses and doctors who cared for the sick and wounded, with kind eyes and gentle touches. To the nurses and doctors who came to the battlefield, to the nurses and doctors who stayed at home. Thank you.
    Thank you to the people at home,
    To the people at home who welcomed back their family and friends with open arms and open hearts. To the people at home who did the jobs others couldn't do. To the people at home who made a change in whatever way they could. Thank you.

    Thank you, soldiers and nurses and doctors and men and women and children. Thank you, for giving me a life.
    ©ghost_of_a_raven