#methaphor

[figurinews]

Metaphor: ReFantazio - Seeker - S.H.Figuarts (Bandai Spirits)

📅 30 Nov 2025 (available for pre-order) 💰 $95.15 👉 buff.ly/ZRGlzWv Seeker is battle-ready in this stunning Metaphor: ReFantazio action figure!

[leonightwater25]

it was suppose to be a doodle.

Template by @//__ksgi

[winter-words]

I am a monster, a beast that's trapped in a birdcage trying to sing as I am told, except all that comes out is ragged and wrong.

[acesenpaimissyou]

The Woods of Tartarus

This oak has lost its beauty, I no longer gaze eternity through its roof, nor seconds in the ripples of its trunk. Tall and mighty it stands, with roots unyielding, yet mold and rot cloud my vision. Its beauty perverted by the cause of my stay, these twisted forests, and I lament as Thanatos laughs. Heavy chains of memory woven, trapped in my minds eye, the red thread now an ouroboros. Fractured thoughts mock from afar, my subconscious taps the glass, an ashen mind scattered upon the wind. Though my neighbours be titans, of rulers primordial, I fear only that which walks with the dark. Death remains illusive, for I can not perish but to live, my life stains the moss a deep scarlet. My canvas bleeds, an insect's lucent tomb, for the trees are the only ones allowed to remember. As dusk retreats, I am greeted by evening's veil, its chilling embrace but the womb of true terrors spawn. Knowing feet guide my flight, singing the songs of earth, a relentless drum beat echoes in the deep. The crystal web builds, my reflection distorted, viscous it seeps through the cracks. Claw and talon and tooth and nail, some or all or none, the searing pain of torment remains. Here be dragons in the prison I call self, a million upon a million upon a million days, I die only to wake.

[foxssie]

“I believe cats to be spirits come to Earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through.” - Jules Verne april 2019

[cigarettesandkisses]

a salty tangy breeze floats lazily all around me. The sun is setting and all i feel is the softest lull of the water linking to the pier.. what silence. what serenity. what tranquility. I wonder how ill ever feel this tranquil inside, for all i see lately is storms and i hear battle cries and fire and destruction. i wonder if ill ever feel the peace of a gentle undercurrent pulling me down, to caress me in a soft waterbed, yet i have fought each current to no avail, i have nearly drowned countless times. What is a man without his ink and paper? what is a man without his expression. He is nothing and i was nothing. how to quell the fire that swept over my entire system and made me forget the fountain of youth that dwells deep within my very soul? Long have i screamed, in terror, in anger, in desperation for the dirty waters of delusion and sad thoughts, of command and of arrogance, of jeers and hatred? How could a creature of the water like myself be swept in a hurricane and i found myself slamming into the cold hard ground with no air in my lungs. The water confides in me, it tells me of secrets and tales, it speaks in a haze of codes and patterns of noises and i lull like a small boat on its harmony. The softest touch i used to have, before it turned into moss, sleepy and frightful everything slipped right out of my fingers. What is a son of Water to do? when two other sons of Water have co ntrol over a daughter of Air? A different stream runs in my blood, a stream of kindness, honesty and love. I am the son of the Black Sea, for my blood runs deep like as the sea flows into the river Danube. I am the Son of a Sea whose name is a figure of speech, for the water where i was born is caresses the very fibres of your soul, hanging of your lungs like lemon honey drops. Pour a silver bucket of Black Water over the ugly flames, demonic and furious, Jealous and Childish. Pour it out as it burnt your whole forest of morals, beliefs and truth .Put it out before you become like the other Sons Of water, for they are Mediterranean, and you are Romanian.Let the gentle water heal your scabs, purify those horrifying burns. Let the cold air of the early evening give you strength inside your very Bones... Let it help you grow and tower your dungeon and seal it shut. This is what the sea told me.. and and his Son.. this is what i must do.

Visit from a WaterSprite (S.S)

[wrapped-around-your-fingers2202]

È da così tanto tempo che non sento più nulla. Nemmeno mi ricordo più di come ci si sente quando si è innamorati, quando si ha voglia di lottare per l’amore di qualcuno, ma soprattutto come ci si sente a sentirsi amati ed irrimediabilmente giusti nonostante le mille imperfezioni.

[myquotationlibrary]

“They don’t kill you unless you light them,” he said as Mom arrived at the curb. “And I’ve never lit one. It’s a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.”

The fault in our stars, John Green, p.30