Cerulean Knight

Blood is running down his silver armor… splattered on his fair skin and light hair… dripping from his fingertips and the sword that is the extension of his hand… Blood. Is it his own or does it belong to the lifeless corpses that are laying around him? Chestnut colored eyes with tints of forest green rest on his crimson colored hands. He cannot move, his breath becoming gradually heavier. His vision blurs from sudden tears that run down his cheeks washing off the ruby splatters.

From the distance the deep sound of drums is signaling that the fight is not over. Taking a sharp breath he rubs off with the back of his hand the transparent liquid, smudging together blood and tears. He exhales slowly trying to collect himself and closes his eyes momentarily. There is no time for sentiments. He whistles loudly, and in a few seconds a white horse is running towards him. It is covered in silver armor , the same blue details of the Kingdom Aldo is serving are adorning the saddle. It’s his horse that approaches him head on and with a swift move of his hand he stops the animal that is neighing in a frenzy. 

“Easy boy…“

His voice calm and collected like his touch on the muzzle of the animal. It doesn’t take long for it to halt stomping it’s legs on the ground and the young knight with a swift jump rides it. His cape waving behind him gracefully as he stares in the distance with his regained confidence and his fist tightens around the grip of his blood-covered weapon. He has to hold them back whatever the price may be.



it’s almost Winter.
Air… cold. Piercing through an empty unmotivated soul.

What are you doing?
Why are you doing it?
Where are you going?
Why are you not going?
Where is your motivation?
Why don’t you have motivation?

You are a soul, in a body; With a mind and feelings, emotions and senses.
But then again no. You feel soulless. Empty.

And the air continues to pierce through you. And you stand there still. Like a marble statue. Getting old and colder as time passes. The change of the weather and age only visible on your appearance.

Marble. Cold and soulless.

Darkest Hour.


This performance called life has been my only and by far the worst performance of myself. Choices made by others, curved my schedule only to end up as disappointments to me and them. Not being able to handle the pressure and their looks; My actions always affected by the worst outcome…



Unbelievable… You are.

Surprisingly disappointing and selfish to the core. Ready answers to unanswered questions, meaningless and depressing realizations made clear, upon every conversation. Either with you or me. The conversationalist always ending up being the second. What a sad realization.

Little red ball.


Maybe, of myself. I didn’t listen to that small voice in the back of my head, warning me.
Maybe NOT.
But, then again;
Should I let myself feel qualms?
Already having found myself in the same situation in the past, my reaction is colder this time. It should be. My vivid crimson ball has been thrown to the ground, in the mud, on the rocks again and again.
Maybe my mistake was who’s hands I trusted it to …
Without a second thought, they threw and kicked my ball far away.
So far away that I have to go fetch it alone, once more; Pick it up with my own two hands and polish it carefully. It will shine again, it always did after I took it in my hands after all. The tears once used to clean the mud have dried up; My intense breathing used to remove the dirt is now serene, And my unsteady heartbeats used to make the color more vivid are now beating in a calm steady rhythm. Instead, a smile curves at the tips of my lips and my eyes shimmer, before the voice whispers again at the back of my head:
“You expected it, right ?”
The smile gets wider, till it turns into a loud laughter.
“You will not do it again in the future, right ?”
I look down at my ball, that has turned into the most vivid and shiniest crimson it had ever been, and I see my smile mirrored on it as it comes to rest on my lips permanently.  Excitement fills my little ball, as I trust in the future and I take my first step into the unknown.
I will always listen to the little voice;
However, I cannot help but feel curious, as to how much more shinier my ball can turn into.

I’m facing him again;

He’s some centimeters away from me …

I can’t speak my mind.
I’m confused.
I like him but i can’t understand his feelings.
I’m confused.
I don’t want to destroy what we have now but i don’t think he values it.
I’m confused.

Every time i try to be honest, I put a fraud and gulp everything;
trying to be friendly;
trying not to scare him;
trying to understand him;
trying to be a buddy he can trust.

I’m afraid;
of ruining the moment.
I’m afraid;
of ruining our past.
I’m afraid;
to face his feelings.
I’m afraid;
of leaving him.

I’m facing him again, asking about nonsense.
He’s not comfortable, so I’ll just pretend I am
and try to convince myself he doesn’t know..


don’t let others define
your actions,
your emotions.
fate is manipulator of dreams..
don’t let yourself get fooled.
follow your dreams.

YOU and YOUR ACTIONS are the only ones who can accomplish them.
you’ve reached your limit they may say.
do YOU even know your limit?
did you give it your all?
Only one word;
Only one person;
Only one thought;
Only one goal;
may set your emotions and abilities on fire..
the process helps you understand your dream.


don’t let others define YOU.

A Good Book.

Every time I finish reading a book I feel sad.
Like my relationship with someone is over; be that friendship or other.
Mixed feelings blossom; accomplishment, happiness, anxiety, sadness.
Until I start reading the next book.
I think that pretty much happens with real people too.
When a relationship doesn’t have any more pages for you to read;
I’m sorry to say that but; It’s over..
Letting you wonder if you gained something by reading it, or you just spent your time…
A good relationship such as a good book will always stay in your memory
and you’ll always compare it with the next that you’ll come upon…



Cold air, piercing through an empty, unmotivated soul.
What are you doing?
Where are you going?
Why are you standing still?

You are a soul in a body.
With a mind, feelings, emotions, senses.
But then again no.
You feel soulless… empty.

Your empty stare into the unknown,
Your light breathing almost nonexistent,
Your heartbeats like the mechanical sound of a ticking clock.

And the air continues piercing through your existence.
And you stand there; still, like a marble.
Getting old.. and colder.

The change of the weather,
The passing of time,
only visible on your skin and hair.. your appearance.

Marble. Cold and soulless.