TheMysteriousPoet
a tired soul
Deviant for 14 years•364 Watchers•288 Watching•824 Deviations
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Literature
nothingness
nothingness
there is just empty.
just... empty.
no writing (sans this)
no painting
no laughter
the arts flutter off and i am left staring at a screen.
i am so tired.
a deep unsettling emptiness consumes me.
help. i do not want to be eaten alive.
What Now? by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
What Now?
What Now?
So... What now?
I've decorated the cap,
Walked the stage,
Braced for the flashing photography lights...
What do I do now?
The flowers are dead and the humidity emphasizes this,
Their stench potent in the kitchen.
I've always liked the intricate details of dead flowers,
The way they droop and the wrinkles of the petals.
What were once vibrant pinks and reds,
Are now yellowed with pink tips and black.
What do I do now?
I've requested my transcripts,
Sent out the job applications,
And polished up my portfolio.
I feel like I've done everything I could do,
Every possible thing that could be done, is done.
So then why do I feel so empty?
This was one of the biggest achievements of my life...
And yet, I feel nothing.
No swelling of pride or accomplishment.
I feel bland and dreary.
"Congratulations!"
"Thanks..."
It's what I was supposed to do.
And maybe that's why I feel the way I do:
It's what I was supposed to do...
And perhaps it is this feeling of obligation that ruins
Sleepless by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Sleepless
Sleepless
I always find night-befores to be sleepless ones.
The night before a harrowing event in my life,
And I can't get a wink of sleep.
I was a bit tired earlier (due to the alcohol),
But now I'm wide awake.
In about eight hours, I'll walk across the stage.
What does life have in store for me?
I've done what I've set out to do.
What do I do now?
I'm reminded of a song from Dear Evan Hansen.
"Does anybody have a map?
Happen to know how the hell to do this?
I don't know if you can tell, but this is me just pretending to know.
So where's the map?
I need a clue,
'Cause the scary truth is,
I'm flying blind,
And I'm making this up as I go!"
I don't know what I'm doing...
I feel like I don't deserve this,
Even after all six years of work.
It's a numbing pang in the soul.
I'm just about in tears.
I do deserve this, even with my mind playing its cruel tricks.
I worked so hard to get to this very day, to that very moment.
Maybe it would be better if I got some sleep...
April 29th by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
April 29th
April 29th
I look at the calendar and see the pretty little date.
Just a normal Tuesday for most.
But for me?
It's just a stepping down for the countdown in the kitchen.
As the sun sets,
And the number resets,
I realize I have four days until I graduate.
I'm not sure how I feel about it.
It took me six years to get me to today,
An endless amount of struggle and hardships.
Friendships gained, friendships lost.
It all led up to this moment.
I don't regret my sacrifices-- everything comes at a cost.
I'm reminded of this as the sun drips into the horizon.
The world resets in a few hours, and another day begins.
One day closer to the goal I so desperately crave to achieve.
I'm proud of myself for sticking through the end.
It's been tough, but I'm glad I'm finishing.
"She can't do it!"
Oh yes I can, and I did!
At The End by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
At The End
At The End
I'm at the end.
Well, not totally-- I've still a few weeks to go.
In approximately 33 days I will walk the stage.
I've spent six years trying to get my degree-- gnawing, clawing my way to the end.
I thought I would be elated to be here,
But a deep pit forms in my stomach.
It reminds me of when I graduated high school--
How terrified I was to walk across that stage!
What comes next?
I'm unsure.
I anticipate a need to get a car, save money-- all those little things.
Most importantly: a job in the field.
I've had a hectic, tumultuous few weeks.
I'm not sure if I want to even be in this profession anymore,
If I'm to be frank.
Yet again, if an opportunity should arise, I am no fool...
I am at the end.
Little Again by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Little Again
Little Again
And suddenly, I'm little again.
Listening to their voices for the first time in a long time,
I was hysterical within the first two minutes.
Hours upon hours of videos I have now,
Both with and without sound.
Christmases, a wedding, a baby shower.
Seeing them act the way they did before.
Sometimes I forget how much I miss them,
Even with the intricacies of emotion at play.
Her playing with her niece reminded me that she wasn't all bad.
That, at some point, she had been an ever-doting, maternal being.
She wasn't always the nasty drunk.
As I watched her play with patience,
I wished I was little again. I wished that was me.
But I know that wishing like this is in vain;
It's emotional torture, in a sense,
To observe what I once had and knowing the downfall.
Today by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Today
Today
Today is December 30.
It's an ordinary day for most.
It's the day before New Year's Eve,
A day before festivities and merriment.
Today would have been joyful in my house,
Oh so many years ago.
Today was my grandparents' wedding anniversary;
Or, rather, would have been.
He died many, many years ago now-- eleven years, almost twelve.
Days like today, the sting bites and gnaws at my soul just a bit more.
She lived nearly eight years after he did,
Dying just weeks before another anniversary.
Time is ever-fleeting and everlasting.
A paradoxical cliche that eludes us all.
I think about it heavily on this day in particular.
NYE around the corner doesn't help, either.
I think, had she lived to see the following anniversary,
It would have hit her like a truck:
Being alive ten years after your last good anniversary.
It would have left her a mess, and I don't blame her.
Time merely flutters her lashes at us,
And we fall like flimsy cards at her feet.
Ten years flew by like it was
Freedom, At Last! by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Freedom, At Last!
Freedom, At Last!
Indeed, I am free!
The last of my assignments are to be turned in this day.
For a whole month, I will be free from assignments.
It will be oh so blissful.
No due dates, no Zoom classes.
Just me and my bed, so snuggly and warm.
See All
Deviation Spotlight
22 by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
22
22
The world feels like it's going on without me.
I don't really know how to feel about that.
It's strange, it's crazy.
Quite frankly, it's a lot of things.
I'm in the school I wanted to go to.
The classes are nice, but a bit hefty on the workload.
I'm enjoying the quiet, but also despise it.
It's interesting, to say the least.
I'm a year and a half into the best relationship.
He is so great. He's a good man.
Anything I could dream of in a partner and more.
We talk about anything and everything.
The baby is getting to be so big.
She's almost one, and I can't believe it.
She was so small the first day I held her.
I stood among the dead and the living.
I just turned 22.
It's a weird, eerie feeling.
I feel like I shouldn't be here.
I feel like I'm in a dream.
I just turned 22.
I'm seeing my career unfolding before me.
I'm seeing my relationship blossom.
I'm watching my family grow.
I just turned 22.
He would have been 83.
He would have been 25.
She would have been 78.
I was a very
Deviation Spotlight
Deviation Spotlight
Baby Nimue by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Baby Nimue
Baby Nimue
Oh but to be an infant cradled with love.
To have the softest skin of man,
And all of a mother's love.
To be eternally cherished and swooned over.
That is my hope for you Baby Nimue.
We will meet years from now.
I hope you will be mine, if you'll have me for a mother.
I know I didn't have the best examples to work off of,
But at least I know what not to do.
That should count towards something, right?
I hope you have your grandmother's eyes.
That's the only thing I could ask for from her.
They were her only redeeming feature.
A kaleidoscope of humanity's diversity and yet uniformity.
Give my Irish baby the most beautiful Irish eyes.
Although I may regret it, I hope you'll have your father's stubbornness.
He takes no shit, nor should you.
Nimue was a wielder of the sword, after all.
Your tongue shall be your sword,
But be careful of who you cut.
Please take your great-grandfather's wisdom,
Have your aunt's selflessness,
But be careful of which great-uncle you learn
Kindness vs Pettiness by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Kindness vs Pettiness
Kindness
Kindness is a funny thing
In a world of pettiness and cruelty.
My boyfriend often claims,
"You're too nice," and
"You know you need to be petty sometimes."
And I know I do-- believe me, I know.
But the thought of intentional nastiness
Makes my stomach tighten up and my jaw clench.
I can't bring myself down to that level;
I won't.
Instead, I choose to be kind.
I let things go longer than they should.
I keep my mouth shut,
Letting the person get away with things,
At least for so long.
When I say something, people act.
It's not just kindness, but honesty as well.
Pettiness and lying come hand-in-hand.
With that in mind, they cost one's integrity.
So, I actively choose kindness rather than maliciousness.
Now, don't get me wrong--
I know how to be petty,
I just actively choose not to be.
If I were, I'd be the nastiest bitch on the block
Like I used to be.
Being petty was a survival tactic,
Just as being quiet is as well.
I lived with petty people, so I learned from
Whisky by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Whisky
Whisky
I eye the bottle with intent.
To drink or not to drink,
Or however the Shakespeare quote goes.
I took the bottle out of the cabinet
And had a swig.
And then I had a few more.
My lips burned, then my throat.
I found myself nostalgic
Of how it tasted as a child.
Precocious in all the wrong ways.
The tastes of childhood, how sad.
To remember sneaking sips slyly
With the childish giggles to follow.
It should have never been left unoccupied,
Yet it was, and without a care.
The consumption of alcohol.
Normalized from birth
And well into adulthood.
I bought the bottle to drink away sorrow.
I've rarely touched it since that night.
But tonight, I found it calling to me.
A wallowing siren song from above the cereal box,
Beckoning my consumption just for the hell of it.
Why did I buy this shit?
And then I remember.
The pet carrier in the corner,
Facing the lit Christmas tree.
All prepped and done well ahead of time,
Taking her last photos.
I drank that night.
I drank from
My Morning by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
My Morning
My Morning
Sip, sip of my water.
Giggle at the YouTube video.
Tippy, tappy on my keyboard.
Just another morning.
Blink, blink at the light.
The sun shining through hurts.
Yawn, yawn from being tired.
Maybe I should sleep?
Hesitate, hesitate.
Sleeping now would mean wasting the day.
Blink, blink with tiredness.
Only one day off until I'm back at work again.
File, file at my nails.
Maybe I should go buy some polish?
Yawn, yawn from lack of sleep.
Maybe tomorrow...
Persephone's Return by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Persephone's Return
Persephone's Return
And just like that,
The snow has melted away,
Its wetness a dew on budding blooms.
Demeter's promise, never broken.
She will come again.
And so she does:
Her pale skin kissed by Helio's rays,
Her eyes looking to Zeus' skies.
She has returned to the budding blooms
And her mother.
But what was left behind:
A husband of darkness,
The realm of the dead,
And their kingdom.
The Underworld now behind her.
At least, for now.
In six month's time she will go back;
That was the agreement.
Persephone blooms in Spring,
But returns to the shadows in Fall.
Tears fill her eyes.
"Oh darling, how I missed you!"
She hears Demeter calling to her,
Cheerful with the Alseids
As the daughter of Prosperity returns to her.
Yet, Persephone cannot help
But long for her Lampades,
How they kept her company
Within the darkness,
Understanding her fully.
Now she sits among the evergreen.
Demeter braids her hair as they sit,
Catching up on old times.
Persephone holds a blush blosom
Delicately
Snaps, Cracks, and Pops by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Snaps, Cracks, and Pops
Snaps, Cracks, and Pops
It's interesting to hear,
All the Crack and Pops.
They happen after a time of not working.
I'm like a little Rice Krispy Treat.
Snap, Crackle, and Pop!
That's the sounds of my joints reawakening.
I'm only 24.
It's interesting to see how work takes a tole.
I'm so achy and tired.
I'll wake up and attempt to rise.
I'm met with a symphony of crackles.
"Man, I'm beat."
I don't want to do anything,
Even as I get up to go eat.
I no longer want to hear them.
The cracks and pops are obnoxious,
A call to my declining physical state.
I'm only 24.
I am exhausted just hearing it.
I end up laying in bed all day,
Just so I don't have to hear them.
The worst part, I fear,
Is knowing they'll never end,
But just increase in volume.
And, by volume,
I mean audio quality and quantity.
I'm sure there are new snaps to be heard.
Ache by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Ache
Ache
It's a soft ache.
In my arms. In my legs.
It leaves me restless,
Unable to lay down and rest.
The ironic part, I truly believe,
Is that I would feel better if I
Settled down and went to sleep.
Alas, the ache keeps me awake.
Nothing to do,
No one to talk to,
I am stuck in my own mind
And my aching body.
I am relieved that I have a reprieve.
But one day off will not be enough.
My feet will hurt to the point of
Temporary Immobility.
I wonder how long this will end.
In reality, I know the answer.
Just one more year of this.
Then I'll be free.
Until then,
I must find a temporary solution.
I do not know how much longer
I can take the agony of aching.
Food Service by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Food Service
Food Service
"Can I get a small meal?!"
"As I just said... Our meals only come in medium or large."
And I find myself wanting to
Bash my head against the wall.
I've repeated myself three times now.
The person at the speaker is aggravated.
I can hear their passenger trying to soothe them.
They relent, although their peeved attitude remaining.
"Fine. I'll get a medium with. . ."
"That's it. And I want to speak to your manager."
And internally, I sigh and roll my eyes.
What the fuck was your problem?
I wasn't rude to you. I was respectful.
The manager listened to our whole interaction.
He knows who had the attitude.
He explains the same thing to you--
We don't serve small meals.
He adjusts your order to how you want it,
Not without saying,
"If I do it this way you're being charged more, for less."
"The attitude wasn't necessary."
And I want to squeal a bit.
A person in management who will stand up for me.
He is one of my favorite managers.
"She was being respectful to you."
His
Pizza on Friday by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Pizza on Friday
Pizza on Friday
Oh, how scrumptious pizza can be!
How perfect a meal!
It's got all of the tastiest morsels on it:
Cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, sausage--
Whatever one desires!
That's the best part about pizza:
Its customizable beyond belief!
From the toppings to the dough,
So as long as one has the ingredients,
The limitations are just one's mind.
There is a downside, however, to this pie.
It's that for Lent,
One needs to remember topping limitations.
No meats-- pepperoni, sausage, ham, bacon.
All must be removed.
Alas, how foolish am I!
I thought I was clever!
I ordered the pizza Thursday night,
Consumed before midnight.
But I am not a glutton: leftovers remain.
Now, the pie's fraction tortures me!
It sits oh so happily in my fridge--
Tantalizing me with each trip to the kitchen.
I am a fool, a silly little fool,
Who ordered pizza on a Thursday in Lent.
Perhaps God would forgive me,
If I had just a slice?
While yes, He would, He'd shake His head
And perhaps even facepalm.
What a
One Thing by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
One Thing
All it takes is one thing,
One simple little act,
To be the tipping point,
The thing that broke the camel's back.
Tears of frustration.
Nothing is ever good enough.
Constant nitpicking, no matter how hard I try.
I hate it here.
I wondered if it was all in my head.
It's not-- others have seen it too,
Seen the way I'm being treated.
They are disgusted.
But it is I who needs to step forward,
To say that something is happening.
I was holding out, but I'm done.
I'm tired of being treated like garbage.
Travel by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Travel
Travel
I've got some travelling experience.
I've been to various parts of the Caribbean:
Jamaica, Dominica, Aruba, Curaço, STVI.
The warm waters are inviting.
I loved experiencing a beach not like my own.
But I've been around the country, too.
Washington, California, Alabama, Pennsylvania.
California has seemingly been reserved for funerals,
And Pennsylvania is but a distant memory.
I'll never set foot in Alabama again.
It's interesting to see what memories will stick after travel.
I remember returning from my time in Europe,
How loud and scary the TSA agent was as I reentered the country.
They treated my grandmother poorly,
Nearly shoving her out of her wheelchair.
I miss Ireland,
The fields and mountains,
The laughter of the pubs,
How verdant and vibrant the landscape was.
It felt like I was home.
Travelling is a wonderful journey.
I would love to travel to someplace new.
Perhaps I'll stay within the country,
Or perhaps go to an unexplored land.
But most importantly, I'll bring
Deviation Spotlight
Goddess of Water and Goddess of Fire by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Goddess of Water and Goddess of Fire
Goddess of Water and Goddess of Fire
Metsi rained down on her people,
Taking delight in their glee.
They skip around in her puddles,
Then use the soil and it mixed to create wonders for themselves.
Metsi keeps a wary eye on Fai,
Watching the hot-headed deity from afar.
Fai is always on the precipice of igniting.
Just a single brush-up in the slightest way sends her ablaze.
"Let them be, just for today," Metsi bargained with Fai.
Fai lurched forward with a distanced roar.
Metsi chants her phrase in muttering,
Chest rumbling as sparks flicker within.
A storm was coming, unbeknownst to the people.
They gather their water and attempt to drink directly from the sky.
Fai roars on, and the people are unaware.
But Metsi knows. She always knows.
"Why do you insist on ruining everything I work hard for?"
Metsi rises from her place in the clouds and charges towards Fai.
"Why do you insist on keeping them? They always return to me!"
"They don't know that! Let them be free for now... Just for
Goddess of Death and God of Life by TheMysteriousPoet, literature
Literature
Goddess of Death and God of Life
Goddess of Death and God of LifeThe two created the mortals,
the ones that roam Earth.
Mirrikh and Ammar were a troublesome pair.
Due to their elements,
they didn't get along
Furthermore, due to their breeding of mortals,
they set up the following agreement:
If it lives, the child goes with Ammar,
and if it dies, the child stays with Mirrikh.
'Twas quite a civil resolution,
as they constantly bothered the other deities
over the custody of their children.
So Ammar tries to give the billions of children
a decent and fulfilling life
before they're sent to their mother,
whose intentions, by the way, are rather vague....
A Sprinkle of Me
Are you watching me for my writing or for my AI art?
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Writing
AI Art
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News and Updates
Possible Publication? by TheMysteriousPoet, journal
Possible Publication?
Hello watchers!
I'm excited to share with you that I might be getting published in a magazine soon! It's called Velvet Poets Magazine. This will be their first issue and I hope I get accepted. I also applied to be an editor, so we'll see where that goes!
I've submitted the following deviations to them for publication. Wish me luck!
Llama Farm
Deviously Devoted
Gold Coin
Buzzing Bee
Creative Dreaming: May 2025
Fabric of Freedom
Profile Comments 2.4K
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