Poems

Individual poems

Rust and Ruin

Rust and Ruin Never did I suppose that the antiquated, rust-eaten vehicle of my grandfather could unfurl into a saga of sheer horror. Upon inheritance, it was more than a relic of rusted metal; it was a phantom from our lineage’s past, an echo of forgotten stories and buried memories. A desolate husk of chrome

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Patina of Memories

Patina of Memories It was the sort of day that clings to a heavy, gray sky, where the light barely pierces through the overcast shroud, as if the world itself is holding its breath. I found it buried in the corner of a dusty attic, beneath heaps of forgotten relics and cobwebbed boxes. The object

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Patina of Sorrow

Patina of Sorrow Step closer, and let me share with you a story draped in the heavy shroud of time, where sorrow lingers like a shadow in an ancient house. I am Evelyn Thorne, and what I am about to recount is a tale steeped in melancholy and memory—a story of an old urn and

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Patina and rust

Patina and rust Patina and Rust Patina clings to the iron gates like a hushed confession, Rust blooms in defiance, a slow and deliberate decay. Life leaves its mark with a savage precision, Etching its story where time dares not stay. Forgotten trails twist beneath its enduring flow, Each nail in the wood speaks of

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