thepoetsdevil

[thepoetsdevil]

too many goddesses no more temples no more heads drown me in ichor and sweat

[thepoetsdevil]

o earth,

i’m so sorry

for everything

we’ve done to you.

for dividing you into

inconsequential dominions

with unnecessary bloodshed

on each trivial line.

for the wars

that burned gashes in your sides

and the sides you couldn’t

stop or take.

in the aftermath of our quarrels,

we leave you incinerated and devastated.

and though i am one of

eight billion,

i say to you, for all of us:

i’m sorry.

[thepoetsdevil]

If you love to write, just keep doing it. Keep writing. If you feel skeptical about your ability, keep writing. If you get stuck, take a little break, read, get to know yourself, collaborate with others, then keep writing. Keep writing. Eventually you’ll look back at some of the first things you wrote, then to what you can write now, and you’ll be astounded by your growth. Be in awe that you grew, because growing is so rarely easy, then write and grow some more. 

[thepoetsdevil]

Genji Shimada x Reader

I just wrote this on a whim and had nowhere else to put it

!!!!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!!! Eating disorder!!!!

—————————————————–

Genji swiftly made his way to your shared bedroom in Gibraltar, a million thoughts racing through his silver head. Earlier that day, the ninja was panicking, having found no trace of you from when he woke up to now, as he practically turned the base upside-down and interrogated every team member in sight searching for you. It just wasn’t like you to leave unannounced and unexpectedly; even if you were called on last-minute missions, you would leave a quick note on the bed before you left. But there was no note and the only people who had said they’d seen you - Hana and Lucio - offered a vague “I think she went out somewhere” answer, which was hardly comforting. But a few minutes ago he had received a text from you. Relief washed over him as he opened his phone, only to have more worry subside it.

Cherry Blossom: Come to the bedroom. We need to talk.

Soon, he was sprinting down the hallway of dormitories, fretting and wondering what would happen when he arrived. Was it him? Some- thing he said? Were you going to leave? His heart was aching at the thought of his love abandoning him, but it stung even harder as he opened the door and saw you. Standing nervously in front of the bed, your red, puffy eyes met his visor, shoulders and face tense with - was that fear? “My flower,” Genji closed the door and swiftly closed the distance between you, taking your hands. “Where have you been? What’s wrong?” You averted your gaze from his faceplate, and spoke in an unusually quiet and meek voice. “You have to promise me that you won’t hate me.” "I could never hate you, my love.” The query almost offended him; how could he ever have anything but love for you? But your fearful body language told him that he had to humor you. A moment of silence passed before Genji gently cupped your chin and lifted your head. “Cherry blossom, you must tell me what troubles you.” You took a deep, shaky breath. It was best, you decided, to just rip it off like a bandage. "I have an eating disorder.” Tears welled and immediately began streaming down your cheeks. “I-I didn’t know how t-to tell you, so I just-I just avoided you. I’m sorry, p-please don’t hate me!” Genji’s heart broke. Not knowing what else to do, he scooped you off of your feet and sat down on the bed, placing you in his lap. He wrapped his arms around your shaking body, doing his best to comfort you. “My blossom, I do not hate you,” he began. “I promise you I do not hate you.” One of his hands came back to cup your cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb as he looked at you through his green visor. “You will not be alone in this fight, my beautiful flower. I will help you in any way I can. I will always be here with you. I love you too much to let this win.” Your sobs had quieted to a few stray tears, and you hugged your lover like it was the last time you would ever see him. “I love you too, Genji. Thank you so much.” "Of course, cherry blossom.” A thought suddenly struck him, and he pulled away to take your hands again. “When is the last time you ate?” "I don’t know,” you answered meekly, studying your lap. “Two, maybe three days ago?” Without a word, Genji lifted you up like a bride and brought you to the small kitchen in your apartment. He sat you down on the counter and turned around, opened the mini-fridge and adjacent drawer, and returned to you with a cup of yogurt and a spoon. You took the items reluctantly, eyeing the container before looking up to your boyfriend. "Please eat, flower.” He was practically pleading with you. “Even if you only take a few bites, you must try.” Nodding, you peeled off the lid, collected a bit of yogurt on your spoon, and lifted it to your mouth. After going three days without food, it tasted like heaven, and you quickly finished it off. Genji took the container and spoon back and put them in the trash and sink respectively, before picking you up again and carrying you back to the bed. "Rest, my sweet cherry blossom,” he cooed as you both settled down. You laid your head on his chest and quickly dozed off, your heavy breathing signaling that you had succumbed to sleep, with your lover soon to follow. In the upcoming months, Genji would slowly help you back into your feet. You would relapse, sure, but in the end, with the ninja’s help, you were certain to make a full recovery, and stay there.

[thepoetsdevil]

Broken

I am, for all intents and purposes, broken, like a robin’s egg stein perched precariously on the shelf above the cabinet, or a magic mirror made mundane by the cracks that let the romance seep out.

But I will not sit here and wax poetic about how “Oh, I may be broken but I can still be fixed!” because I can’t. Rather, don’t want to.

We all have a little broken inside us, a broken leg, broken lip, broken heart, or a broken head that spins around and skip skip skip skips like a ripped record put on repeat.

But most people want their abnormalities and mutations melded together in an amalgamation of meticulous and falsified perfection But I refuse,

Because all of my mutilations and maim marks are the nails that hold together the levels of my me-ness And to level my marks To level my head Is to level the shifty rock pyramid stationed on sand that is my whole being

Perfection is a one-size-fits-all mold that I will never be melted down and poured into.

So I will remain a broken and peeling picture frame left alone in an empty castle because all of my cracks and crevices are what make me a living, breathing, changing, feeling, ticking time-bomb of a human being because that is what I am.

I’m not a stein, Or a mirror, Or a frame Or a angel-faced baby doll made in the factory of “Buy our make-up!” “Try our diet!” “Don’t you want to be perfect?”

No, I don’t. Being perfect does not make you worthy Being alive makes you worthy So broken I began, and broken I shall remain.

[thepoetsdevil]

I love her

I love her. I love the way her hair falls around her head, framing her beautiful face perfectly. I love her big, blue, doe eyes and they way they sparkle when they look into mine. I love her soft, pale hands that slip into mine like it was made for me. But my favorite thing about her is the screams she emits when I drag my knife along her pretty body.

[thepoetsdevil]

Death

The flowers die around my head, The sun drowns in the deep The moon's pale skin has rotted black, The stars have lost their dreams. The fire lost its will to live, The air has grown so silent The earth has stopped its journey home, The water's no longer violent.

[thepoetsdevil]

[thepoetsdevil]

How to make a masterlist

An anon asked me how to do this and I thought I’d make a general post on how to do it, since it’d be quite long to reply to in an ask. It may be a little long winded but bare with me. I hope it’s easy to follow.

Keep reading

[thepoetsdevil]

REBLOG IF YOU ARE A WRITER ON TUMBLR

IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT KIND OF WRITER YOU ARE YOU CAN BE WRITING: POEMS, FANFICS, IDK NORMAL FICS, NOVELS, SHORT STORIES, IDK ANYTHING!! JUST REBLOG!!!

[thepoetsdevil]

The Noble Horse

Hooves plodding on the ground like a deep bass drum, Tail swishing in the warm summer wind. Head held high like a Phoenix in the sky, Eyes looking up to catch the sun. His heart his open and his mind is wise, His pelt emblazoned with fire. All other creatures bow their heads low, In the presence of the noble horse.

[thepoetsdevil]

Broken (Found Poem Based Off The Novel 'Fever 1793')

A small child cowered in the corner, “Broken,” she said. Broken in the eyes Of tiny Nell.

“Mama’s broken, too.”

I didn’t want to cry In front of Nell. “Are we going to die?” “When will it end?” I covered Nell’s ears.

“Mama’s broken, too.”

Small children, Solemn as three old preachers. I needed to do right By Nell. I had my feet Under me now.

“Mama’s broken, too.”

“Seems she’s better Off with you.” I wanted to dance. We didn’t talk About Nell. Just loved her.

A small doll For Nell.

[thepoetsdevil]

Oh, Alice

Oh Alice, my Alice The time has come To pick the cherries One by one.

To here the shrieks Of those better dead As you pluck their eyes Right out of their heads.

Oh Alice, my Alice The time is nigh To plant apple trees That will reach the sky.

Plant the seeds Well and good In the place where the bastards’ Eyes once stood.

Oh Alice, my Alice The job’s almost done. The last you must do Is skin the dead hog.

Dig the knife deep Under the flesh. Rip it clean from the bones Of those near dead.

Oh Alice, my Alice Look at your art. Gleaming dark red In the faint streaks of dawn.

Your Father is proud To see you do well And you, my dear, Will be burning in hell.

[thepoetsdevil]

Gabriel (A Supernatural-Inspired Poem)

I flip the switch And write the words Upon the walls and Draw your angel wings In thick white smoke In the cold air.

[thepoetsdevil]

Melancholia

Melancholia is a deep gray like an overcast sky

and also like the eyes of an ancient stone giant whose life has become wallowing in the deafening loneliness of silence.

It seeps into any soul vulnerable to its ghostly poison.

It reminds me of the time when withering kings would balefully gaze at their crumbling kingdoms, yet resolve to do nothing because they have already lost everything.

It makes me feel idle like a dragon dying of old age rather than going out defending his treasure.

It makes me want to stare out a bleak, ill-painted, window, hoping for something but willing to do nothing.

[thepoetsdevil]

Okay

I am okay.

I am okay with what I have and I am okay with that fact that I might not have what I really want.

I am okay with the fact that my family is comprised of two ticking time bombs and three people who don’t know when silence is golden because at least we are still a family.

I am okay with the fact that I don’t have to be strong all the time because I have amazing friends I can lean on.

My life is not perfect in any way and I am not perfect in any way but you know what?

I am okay with that.

I am okay.