deepundergroundpoetry.com
the saga of transformation (pt. 1)
this world entered within me backwards and fleeting
a soul crushed and slated for destruction.
f͔̝̖͖̓̏̓̿̅̈a̬͕ͨ̏͑͒ͯi̖̪̩̻̔̉̅l̩̹̼̎̃ͫͪͨ͗u̖̰͔̗͇̜̝͋ͭ͜r̬͓̠̮̰ͪ̿̈ͬe̸͍̖̤̖,̶̔ ͇̥̬̠̱̯̰̃ͧ̏ͫ̔͆f͔͇͖̱̥͎̻͛̌͌̿ͪ͌a̤̫̳̭͐͊ͬ͌͆i͋͏̬̲͍̜̯͔͈ḹ͎̮͙̯̄͊ͮ̋̎̊ͅͅu̠̖̮͈̣͋͝r͚͉̲͇͎̬̍̌̄̇̏e̩ͤ́̃̓ͧ̍,͓̙͙͍̝͙̔̍ͣ̇̓̄ ̡̬ͤ̎̿̈̈́͒y̦ͥ̅̾ͮ̉ơ̼̥͕͖ͩͥͯͅų̯ ̄w͚̱͍̙̭̮͛̑͌̂ͅi̪̥̤͔̣̱̙̓̒̚l̩̞̪̯̹̠̒̀l̑ͦͪ̿ ͌̄̇̂̉͏a̟̜̤̞̲̓ͮ̎͊̎̉m̳͕͇̱̦͎͌o͔̮̥̩͓͖͖ͤ̐u͂̌ͦ͐̈́͆҉̦͍͕̳n͋̒̔ͫ̈ͩt̴̝̟ͣ̽ ̘͔̪̙̔ͪ͡ţ͔̞̘̅̏o̹͍̙͕͉͔͇ͣ͆ͪ̿ͫ͆ ͚̼̏͐ͣͅnͣ͑̒͛͏͖̹o̜̬̱̱̻͙ͫ̐̾ͭ͌ͧ̒͞ͅt͔͓̥̰̝̞̽ͪͦ͐̿͒ͮh̵̃͒̓̒ḭ̪̻ͣ̾n̰̲̲͕̦̰͉̽ĝ̱̝̼̩̳̗̐,̘̜̲͛ ̰̫̭̉͌̇̌̌ͨ̊y̴̪͔̘̲̖̾̐o̯̤̭̲͓̜̺ͦ͛̒̉̏̚u͆ͨ̓ͣ̐͑ ̮̣̏̎̈̂͋ͦͩ̕ć̟̠̮͎ͥ̀o̵̥̟͍̠ͅm̹̼͕̣̤͉̺ͯ͂ͪͮ̽̓e̩͋ͤ͐ͨ ̡̞̰f̛̦͙̝̖͎̫̄ͭ͗̚r̔ͭ̿̈̂͌ͨo̯̗̼̭͇̱̻͑̍̋̄ͪ̉͝m͊̇̉̌ͤ ̭͎̫̄ͤ̊̒̏ͭn̢̠̗̺̫͊̒̅ͫ ̄ͪ͐͋̆͡o̥͕̯ ̯̀̇̔͐͝t̩͕̗̹ ̞͙̭ͫ̚h̴̎ͪ̇̚ ̟̮̩̪̈́́̽̐i̎̏ ̄̔̀n̞̝͍̪͉̽ ̣̦͎͖̃ͤ͊̍ͫͦ̒g͈͙̗͚ͭ
control, control, control. they walk to the beat of their own drum with happiness found within written word.
a sensitive soul (c̴̪͉̣͍̖ͬ̀r̪͈̰̋̉͝u͚̩̺̥͓̖ͭs͉̯h̶͇̓ͮ͂ ͚̻̤̬i̤̪͉͊͑t̠́͒), they demanded it.
change, they wanted to change. dissect, diagnose.
i̯̒͛̓͊ͨ͊̐͢t͚̠̯͖̒ͯ͂ͦ ̟͓̺͆̃̄̾ẁ̶̉̓̅̋ͯ̍å͈͓̙̐̀ṡ̼̦̮͇̬̙͒ ͙̖̤̘ͮ͌n̸ͩͥͥ̇͒͛͆e̴̩̤̙̖ͅv̛̱̰͎̉̓e̅ͦͬ͐ͪ̽r͙͉͈̭̞ͯ͒ ̩̟̲͖̟̱̼̀̈́̇ͦ̊̉ͭo͊͂͆̂̽ḳ̯͈̞͓̋ͬͩͥ̾͑̏ȃ̛̱͍̼̺͙͌́̈́y̱̟̙̫̳̏̔͆̇͊ͪ͘ ̛͓͂̀͗͋̏ͭ͛ṱ̸̜̞̝̜̏͗̓̈o͈̗̝ͯ̊ͭ ͇̣̘̑̀̄̋̚b̸̩͎̻ͣ̈́̂͂ͫ͌è̷̫͉̱̿͒ͬ̒̊ ̹͈̩̣͉̠̫̏ͭ̾̏ͫͥͫ́m͉̞͎̹͚̦͌̽͒͢ḛ͇͕̳̯͌̀
yet within dismal fog came the broken and forlorn. purpose, purpose, finally a purpose. i learned to love what i once hated.
t̩̼̠ͩ͂ͪ̂̆h̬̞̫̯̯̘͗ͥ̒͐̃̆͂͞e̡̦͓͕̩̬̤͌̔ͮͩ͒͋ ͉̟͔̜̥̍͛͠ͅe̲͓̩̦̣̣ͭͮl͚̰ͅd̙͈̳̹̂̕e͗s͋̓t̬̬̼̞̹̞̓ͣͭͨ̊,̙̮͝ ̴̙̤̟͉͗e̲̞͚͈̺ͅl͕̩̼̘̓ͪ͘d̛͎̱͉̿ȅ̬̦͔̝̾̚sͦ͒̎t̪̘̔̈́ͬ͒͒͊̂,̡͚͍̰̾͑͒ͦ ̖̝̜̱̭̝̒̆̐͞e͉̬̙̅l̼͖ͣͨͭd̛̜e̛̦͙ͮ̄̾s̗̜ͦ̂͡t̿͆ͣͦͪ̋,͖̫͑͛͜ ̼͔́͠f͈̻̜ͅȯ̴̙̪̣̌r̋̀ͨ͆͏̭̱̜̫̪̳̖c̘̼͋ͨ̓̄̓e̊̈̊ͦ̋d̀̅̾̓̔̀ͅ ̾͒͗͌̓̅t̻ͧ̃̊̆͡ͅo̠̲̲̳̣͌͗̏́ ̢͓̮̓̽̑g̬̯͉̭̪̤̓ͯi͂ͨͪ҉̝͎̗v̖̞̪͈͂̿ͫ͡ḙ̯̊ͮ̃̍͊͟ ̣̎ͮ͆͒̌u͇̮̲͉̝ͣ̓ͮ̒̆͟p̗͙̤ ̧̝t̯̞̄̾̈́̃h̫͔̚͡e̢͍͊̓ͨ̈ͭͪ̚i̛̞̼͖̪͙͒̋ͣͧr͗̍̉̂̿͗͛̀ ̺͕̜̗͑p̼͚̥̓̏̌ͨ̀̄́ṛ̶̺͕͒͂̄̾̔̒í̶̺̙͎͋ͥͫ͆̄̌m͈̦̬̦͈ͦ̋͐é̹̞͇͌
mommy was simply a friend, another child struggling in a world that had dangled her above the precipice and flung her within the den of lions.
we were her salvation. she was my destruction.
a̓̎̊ͬͨ̄҉̘͇̰l̦͙̘̩̮̫ͬͬ́͆̇̐ͪó̻̮̤̲ͨ̚ṉ̯̘͆ͬ͒e̖̭̘͙̠͋̓̎̇͂͒̑,̶͕̪̗̭ ̮̩̻̤̉̊ͮw̠̙͔̠̬̌̉̐̉̎e̬̪̘̫̞͋̌̀̈́ͅ ̨͖̺͖͕̤ā̗̞̼̠͙̱͇͌l̴̖̱̫͍̠ͥ̂ͣ͌ͫ͑l̼̞̗͖̪͋͞ ͙̬̳̫̮̻͇ͥ̑̏ͭͮ͂̚f͖͔̩̈͌͊͗ė̝̤̫â̷̯ͯrͦ͆̚̚ ͚̝̓̄ͬͯ͊̆ͪͅd̹̹͍͉̫͘ͅy̟̩̜ͩͫ̎̄̈̊i̵̙͖͊n̙̺̳ͣ̅͟g͔̙̗͊̂͠ ̫͓̙̥̘̠̂ͮ͌̎ͮ̽a̱̤̺̻̓ͣ̍͑͊̒ͫl̊͋͏̞͉ò͞n̗͈̬̤̼͆̐̆̽̑͐́ȇ͍͇͍͕͕͔̳ͦͬ̊ ̭͓̂a̦̻͖͓̜̖͠ṇ͍̗͛ͭ͞d̨̦͉͔̂̾͗͐̆͋̽ ̮̟̗̘̳͍͈ͬy̶͙̲̹̲e͏t̖̀ͪͭ.̝̗̅͗̔͐ͮͧ́.̧̥̺͔̼̺ͮͭ̂̍͌̇ͅ
the most i've ever learned, was taught by my own hand. fears conquered through sheer will. the desperation to snuff out my azure flame, negated by the hands of fate.
i found love, bumbling, clumsy, disgusting love. found so many, many, many, many times, yet so gilded - fools gold.
h̖̿͋̋i̮̪̺͐d̹̏́ͭ͊̍e͔̝͈̘͌̽͑,̿͆ͭͥ͆ͦ̌ ̢̰̤̘̭̯̭̞̍̊r̞̗̹̘͍̼̺u̗̟̝̫ͣ̉́̔̎̓̚ṋ̷̬̹̖̱̻̬ͨͪ͌̉̒ͮ,̴̥̜̰̙͇̎ͮͩͬ̾ ̱̭̀̀̔͗̑͑s̢ͣ̃ͅo̖̗̖͙̫̹ͭ̾ͣ́ ̸̲͌ͬͤ̚t̞͉̐ͦ́͐͋̾hͬͨ̏ͬ̽ͥ̿͡a͉͇̪̽̈́ͨ̽ͤͣ̀͡t̩̞̩͊ ̠̄̄͌ͨͩy͉̘͋̃̋o̺̩̪ͩ͘û̞͂ͫ ̋ͬ̓ͪ̾͂ͅc̰͚̙̯͈̝ͯ͒͗̂̃́̓a͎̭̰̻̾̈̄ͥ͐̓ͬn̨̥͎̱͚̗̮͚ͯͯ̌͒͆ ͍̘̣̖͛̊͑̇a̖̥̯̜̫̐̈́̓̂͋̋̑l̴̺w̲̹͙ͅa̫͎̟͂͌̒ẏ͆͆̀s̟̮̳̋̊͗ ̭̮̰̳̓͝h̫̜̼͋ó̦̏ͩ͗̈ͦl̜͎ͦ̔d̶̞̣ͅ ̫̠̫͈ͪ̿̌̉ͤ͛t͔̏ͩͦ̋̿̊h̭̝͎̻̎͗e͈̯̞̬͙͑ͬͭ͗̋s̞̲͊̈́é̠̥̃̊̓ ̼̝̲ͮm̽̀̀͑̇ͦ҉̖̭̦͍͈ē̮̕m̡͕̱ͬő̦̝̫r͎̟̘̣̄ͭ͂ͫ̓ͧ͘i̼̼̳̝̯e͋ͪ͏̪s̬̺̬͇̬̉ ̱͡d̰̳eͪ͑̅a͊͛ͫ̃ͬͮͮ̕r̮͚̝̩̯͐͆
hate carved stone into love, love, love will save our world.
as it has saved me.
a soul crushed and slated for destruction.
f͔̝̖͖̓̏̓̿̅̈a̬͕ͨ̏͑͒ͯi̖̪̩̻̔̉̅l̩̹̼̎̃ͫͪͨ͗u̖̰͔̗͇̜̝͋ͭ͜r̬͓̠̮̰ͪ̿̈ͬe̸͍̖̤̖,̶̔ ͇̥̬̠̱̯̰̃ͧ̏ͫ̔͆f͔͇͖̱̥͎̻͛̌͌̿ͪ͌a̤̫̳̭͐͊ͬ͌͆i͋͏̬̲͍̜̯͔͈ḹ͎̮͙̯̄͊ͮ̋̎̊ͅͅu̠̖̮͈̣͋͝r͚͉̲͇͎̬̍̌̄̇̏e̩ͤ́̃̓ͧ̍,͓̙͙͍̝͙̔̍ͣ̇̓̄ ̡̬ͤ̎̿̈̈́͒y̦ͥ̅̾ͮ̉ơ̼̥͕͖ͩͥͯͅų̯ ̄w͚̱͍̙̭̮͛̑͌̂ͅi̪̥̤͔̣̱̙̓̒̚l̩̞̪̯̹̠̒̀l̑ͦͪ̿ ͌̄̇̂̉͏a̟̜̤̞̲̓ͮ̎͊̎̉m̳͕͇̱̦͎͌o͔̮̥̩͓͖͖ͤ̐u͂̌ͦ͐̈́͆҉̦͍͕̳n͋̒̔ͫ̈ͩt̴̝̟ͣ̽ ̘͔̪̙̔ͪ͡ţ͔̞̘̅̏o̹͍̙͕͉͔͇ͣ͆ͪ̿ͫ͆ ͚̼̏͐ͣͅnͣ͑̒͛͏͖̹o̜̬̱̱̻͙ͫ̐̾ͭ͌ͧ̒͞ͅt͔͓̥̰̝̞̽ͪͦ͐̿͒ͮh̵̃͒̓̒ḭ̪̻ͣ̾n̰̲̲͕̦̰͉̽ĝ̱̝̼̩̳̗̐,̘̜̲͛ ̰̫̭̉͌̇̌̌ͨ̊y̴̪͔̘̲̖̾̐o̯̤̭̲͓̜̺ͦ͛̒̉̏̚u͆ͨ̓ͣ̐͑ ̮̣̏̎̈̂͋ͦͩ̕ć̟̠̮͎ͥ̀o̵̥̟͍̠ͅm̹̼͕̣̤͉̺ͯ͂ͪͮ̽̓e̩͋ͤ͐ͨ ̡̞̰f̛̦͙̝̖͎̫̄ͭ͗̚r̔ͭ̿̈̂͌ͨo̯̗̼̭͇̱̻͑̍̋̄ͪ̉͝m͊̇̉̌ͤ ̭͎̫̄ͤ̊̒̏ͭn̢̠̗̺̫͊̒̅ͫ ̄ͪ͐͋̆͡o̥͕̯ ̯̀̇̔͐͝t̩͕̗̹ ̞͙̭ͫ̚h̴̎ͪ̇̚ ̟̮̩̪̈́́̽̐i̎̏ ̄̔̀n̞̝͍̪͉̽ ̣̦͎͖̃ͤ͊̍ͫͦ̒g͈͙̗͚ͭ
control, control, control. they walk to the beat of their own drum with happiness found within written word.
a sensitive soul (c̴̪͉̣͍̖ͬ̀r̪͈̰̋̉͝u͚̩̺̥͓̖ͭs͉̯h̶͇̓ͮ͂ ͚̻̤̬i̤̪͉͊͑t̠́͒), they demanded it.
change, they wanted to change. dissect, diagnose.
i̯̒͛̓͊ͨ͊̐͢t͚̠̯͖̒ͯ͂ͦ ̟͓̺͆̃̄̾ẁ̶̉̓̅̋ͯ̍å͈͓̙̐̀ṡ̼̦̮͇̬̙͒ ͙̖̤̘ͮ͌n̸ͩͥͥ̇͒͛͆e̴̩̤̙̖ͅv̛̱̰͎̉̓e̅ͦͬ͐ͪ̽r͙͉͈̭̞ͯ͒ ̩̟̲͖̟̱̼̀̈́̇ͦ̊̉ͭo͊͂͆̂̽ḳ̯͈̞͓̋ͬͩͥ̾͑̏ȃ̛̱͍̼̺͙͌́̈́y̱̟̙̫̳̏̔͆̇͊ͪ͘ ̛͓͂̀͗͋̏ͭ͛ṱ̸̜̞̝̜̏͗̓̈o͈̗̝ͯ̊ͭ ͇̣̘̑̀̄̋̚b̸̩͎̻ͣ̈́̂͂ͫ͌è̷̫͉̱̿͒ͬ̒̊ ̹͈̩̣͉̠̫̏ͭ̾̏ͫͥͫ́m͉̞͎̹͚̦͌̽͒͢ḛ͇͕̳̯͌̀
yet within dismal fog came the broken and forlorn. purpose, purpose, finally a purpose. i learned to love what i once hated.
t̩̼̠ͩ͂ͪ̂̆h̬̞̫̯̯̘͗ͥ̒͐̃̆͂͞e̡̦͓͕̩̬̤͌̔ͮͩ͒͋ ͉̟͔̜̥̍͛͠ͅe̲͓̩̦̣̣ͭͮl͚̰ͅd̙͈̳̹̂̕e͗s͋̓t̬̬̼̞̹̞̓ͣͭͨ̊,̙̮͝ ̴̙̤̟͉͗e̲̞͚͈̺ͅl͕̩̼̘̓ͪ͘d̛͎̱͉̿ȅ̬̦͔̝̾̚sͦ͒̎t̪̘̔̈́ͬ͒͒͊̂,̡͚͍̰̾͑͒ͦ ̖̝̜̱̭̝̒̆̐͞e͉̬̙̅l̼͖ͣͨͭd̛̜e̛̦͙ͮ̄̾s̗̜ͦ̂͡t̿͆ͣͦͪ̋,͖̫͑͛͜ ̼͔́͠f͈̻̜ͅȯ̴̙̪̣̌r̋̀ͨ͆͏̭̱̜̫̪̳̖c̘̼͋ͨ̓̄̓e̊̈̊ͦ̋d̀̅̾̓̔̀ͅ ̾͒͗͌̓̅t̻ͧ̃̊̆͡ͅo̠̲̲̳̣͌͗̏́ ̢͓̮̓̽̑g̬̯͉̭̪̤̓ͯi͂ͨͪ҉̝͎̗v̖̞̪͈͂̿ͫ͡ḙ̯̊ͮ̃̍͊͟ ̣̎ͮ͆͒̌u͇̮̲͉̝ͣ̓ͮ̒̆͟p̗͙̤ ̧̝t̯̞̄̾̈́̃h̫͔̚͡e̢͍͊̓ͨ̈ͭͪ̚i̛̞̼͖̪͙͒̋ͣͧr͗̍̉̂̿͗͛̀ ̺͕̜̗͑p̼͚̥̓̏̌ͨ̀̄́ṛ̶̺͕͒͂̄̾̔̒í̶̺̙͎͋ͥͫ͆̄̌m͈̦̬̦͈ͦ̋͐é̹̞͇͌
mommy was simply a friend, another child struggling in a world that had dangled her above the precipice and flung her within the den of lions.
we were her salvation. she was my destruction.
a̓̎̊ͬͨ̄҉̘͇̰l̦͙̘̩̮̫ͬͬ́͆̇̐ͪó̻̮̤̲ͨ̚ṉ̯̘͆ͬ͒e̖̭̘͙̠͋̓̎̇͂͒̑,̶͕̪̗̭ ̮̩̻̤̉̊ͮw̠̙͔̠̬̌̉̐̉̎e̬̪̘̫̞͋̌̀̈́ͅ ̨͖̺͖͕̤ā̗̞̼̠͙̱͇͌l̴̖̱̫͍̠ͥ̂ͣ͌ͫ͑l̼̞̗͖̪͋͞ ͙̬̳̫̮̻͇ͥ̑̏ͭͮ͂̚f͖͔̩̈͌͊͗ė̝̤̫â̷̯ͯrͦ͆̚̚ ͚̝̓̄ͬͯ͊̆ͪͅd̹̹͍͉̫͘ͅy̟̩̜ͩͫ̎̄̈̊i̵̙͖͊n̙̺̳ͣ̅͟g͔̙̗͊̂͠ ̫͓̙̥̘̠̂ͮ͌̎ͮ̽a̱̤̺̻̓ͣ̍͑͊̒ͫl̊͋͏̞͉ò͞n̗͈̬̤̼͆̐̆̽̑͐́ȇ͍͇͍͕͕͔̳ͦͬ̊ ̭͓̂a̦̻͖͓̜̖͠ṇ͍̗͛ͭ͞d̨̦͉͔̂̾͗͐̆͋̽ ̮̟̗̘̳͍͈ͬy̶͙̲̹̲e͏t̖̀ͪͭ.̝̗̅͗̔͐ͮͧ́.̧̥̺͔̼̺ͮͭ̂̍͌̇ͅ
the most i've ever learned, was taught by my own hand. fears conquered through sheer will. the desperation to snuff out my azure flame, negated by the hands of fate.
i found love, bumbling, clumsy, disgusting love. found so many, many, many, many times, yet so gilded - fools gold.
h̖̿͋̋i̮̪̺͐d̹̏́ͭ͊̍e͔̝͈̘͌̽͑,̿͆ͭͥ͆ͦ̌ ̢̰̤̘̭̯̭̞̍̊r̞̗̹̘͍̼̺u̗̟̝̫ͣ̉́̔̎̓̚ṋ̷̬̹̖̱̻̬ͨͪ͌̉̒ͮ,̴̥̜̰̙͇̎ͮͩͬ̾ ̱̭̀̀̔͗̑͑s̢ͣ̃ͅo̖̗̖͙̫̹ͭ̾ͣ́ ̸̲͌ͬͤ̚t̞͉̐ͦ́͐͋̾hͬͨ̏ͬ̽ͥ̿͡a͉͇̪̽̈́ͨ̽ͤͣ̀͡t̩̞̩͊ ̠̄̄͌ͨͩy͉̘͋̃̋o̺̩̪ͩ͘û̞͂ͫ ̋ͬ̓ͪ̾͂ͅc̰͚̙̯͈̝ͯ͒͗̂̃́̓a͎̭̰̻̾̈̄ͥ͐̓ͬn̨̥͎̱͚̗̮͚ͯͯ̌͒͆ ͍̘̣̖͛̊͑̇a̖̥̯̜̫̐̈́̓̂͋̋̑l̴̺w̲̹͙ͅa̫͎̟͂͌̒ẏ͆͆̀s̟̮̳̋̊͗ ̭̮̰̳̓͝h̫̜̼͋ó̦̏ͩ͗̈ͦl̜͎ͦ̔d̶̞̣ͅ ̫̠̫͈ͪ̿̌̉ͤ͛t͔̏ͩͦ̋̿̊h̭̝͎̻̎͗e͈̯̞̬͙͑ͬͭ͗̋s̞̲͊̈́é̠̥̃̊̓ ̼̝̲ͮm̽̀̀͑̇ͦ҉̖̭̦͍͈ē̮̕m̡͕̱ͬő̦̝̫r͎̟̘̣̄ͭ͂ͫ̓ͧ͘i̼̼̳̝̯e͋ͪ͏̪s̬̺̬͇̬̉ ̱͡d̰̳eͪ͑̅a͊͛ͫ̃ͬͮͮ̕r̮͚̝̩̯͐͆
hate carved stone into love, love, love will save our world.
as it has saved me.
Published 25th Jan 2018
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26th Jan 2018 5:06am
