Alessia-Maria Cristea-Botorcu is participating in the International Literary Creation Competition, 7th Edition, from Bucharest, Romania and is 16 years old. We thank her for her participation and wish her success.

Never let it grow inside you

Slaves of darkness, deep in my soul!
The forest trembles beneath my feet.
The coat of dirt scatters around my conscience.
Each step hurts my soul, weakened by the bruises I hide.
My coat, tailored by lies, rips apart.
The pulsating heart, hidden behind my bones, keeps breathing.

I touch my chest, searching for the key to freedom.
When did I lose control?
Time carves into my skin,
Erasing the face of who I’ve been.
My wrists cry red, removing the contagious plague.
Roses clutch at my feet, standing in a pond of the unforgiven,
Biting my flesh.

Shadows crawl like serpents through my veins,
Whispering names I buried in the mud.
The forest moans, searching for lost souls.
Cruel hands grab the emptiness
And throw it against me,  

Leaving me on the ground in shreds of nothingness.
With its last breath,
It swallows its lungs
And releases the rain of despair.
I fall onto wilted autumn leaves,
Crawling back to who I once was.
The devil reaches me

And climbs the mountain of my soul.
His hands burn through it,
Melting into a pool of lost hope. 
I scream into the void,
Breaking the web of agony,
Slashing the roots of evil.
Then it opens my ribs with starving hands,
Peeling the cage apart like rusted gates.

It bites with no mercy,
Its sharp teeth devouring my pain
Like a five-star meal.
“O slaves of darkness, have mercy!”
Every breath hurts

As I feel something growing inside me
A contagious mushroom,
Rotten from years and years of hatred.
I feel numb, 
Exhausted from fighting a battle I cannot win.

The forest wraps its arms around me,
Draining every drop of life I have left.
Its thorns caress my cheeks,
Whispering into my ear:
“The forest lies inside you.”
                            

A fool’ s game

Come closer.
Come on, I won’t hurt you.
Step softly, heading into the unknown.
Trust my smile, showing you what you want to believe.
Just listen closely, your breath sharpening my senses.
As you take a step, I wrap my arms around you, looking for the center of information.
This is how you do it:

Gently, with slow movements, the blade traces fear.
And I hit it hard, tiny droplets of blood scattering over the empty walls.
The big piece of flesh pulsating in my cold hands drives me crazy.
It breathes with ease, feeding my hunger.
Something grows inside me, and it rips me apart.
My bleeding soul carving into pieces.
I’ve lost control.

I smash the flesh into pieces and shove it down my throat,
laughing in despair.
Everything I built from certainty
turns soft, unstable, unrecognizable.
The world dissolves, the color washing away,
leaving behind the cruel darkness.
Whispers echo, a sweet, venomous sound planting seeds of doubt.

Mirrors fly around me, faces of a stranger dancing in harmony.
I take a step back.
Oh, it’s perfect.
I take the blade again and sculpt the remains into nothingness and emptiness.
Oh, please, angels of mercy, stop my crafted hands.
The air grows heavy, thick with an unspoken thread.
I stare into the void, looking for the answer.

How far will I go?
When will I ever stop?
Dizzy, you try to move,
catching with your bare hands the Statue of Liberty.
Oh, sorry, honey, I’m not done yet.
I tie you up tight to the chair, wrists bleeding violet tears.
A symphony plays, a crescendo of agony conducted with glee.

Each note hits my soul hard, a macabre masterpiece unfolding.
I close my eyes and embrace the smell of fear.
Just as I remembered.
This is my creation.
I am the sculptor of agony and despair.
You were… just unlucky.
My clay, waiting to be molded by my twisted mind.

My hands, though stained, are steady.
My resolve, unshakable.
I clean my hands and pull the strings.
I pull your hands and a whole world trembles under my feet.
Blinded by my truths, you follow into my reality,
your brain altered by my lies guiding you.
Don’t worry, I’ll be here for you, healing.

I’ll always be here.
I am a master of puppets.
My mind dresses in a cloak of sadistic thoughts and dances in the pale moonlight
as you accompany my desires.
Oh, angels of mercy, please… stop me before it’s too late.
This game is addictive.      


The truth.....

I swear to never tell the truth,
But only lies.
The oath I carry in my mind, tongues wrapped around it,
Suffocating the rational me.
The truth… I’ve never shared the truth.

Call me arrogant or call me weak
It’s the same to me.
I’ve dedicated my life to building walls of uncertainty,
Molding fear into what feels normal.
Until silence reached for my name.

I am a name written on the empty walls of nothingness,
Blinded by the light of a past life.
A ship strikes the shore and shakes the silence,
Breaking it into fragments of sound.
Commanders, dressed in jackets made of human skin,

Lurk as I hide in the shadows.
I shall remain a nobody
A figure carved by doubt and pity,
By the hands of a powerful, indifferent god.
I bend over the bridge of being and leaving,

Asking myself:
Have I ever lived?
I can’t tell when I started to fade away.
It… just happened.
My memory, a sponge of information, squeezed by the cruel hands of fate,

Leaves me alone, shivering in the cold wind.
The ship groans, desperately searching for my lost soul.
I tremble, and fear dances around me in agony.
My world collapses, its pillars I carefully built caving
Under the pressure of certainty.

The walls whisper my name, trying to be heard.
I am trapped in the cage I built,
As I watch my world burn into pieces.
Is this the end?
The thoughts continue, repeating themselves

Over and over again.
I shall remain nobody.