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Tempokai

Tempokai

The Overworked One
Joined
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Messages
1,396
Points
153
the soundtrack for dummies who are waiting for to be unwinned currently
 
Scaletalon

Scaletalon

Well-known member
Joined
Dec 11, 2024
Messages
83
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48
I'm back in the lead. Does anyone else feel that this contest will go on for eternity?
 
Tempokai

Tempokai

The Overworked One
Joined
Nov 16, 2021
Messages
1,396
Points
153
Possum Who Could Not Scream

For once, the possum knew.
Oh, how it knew.
If it screamed, its voice would echo into the void,
Where razor-edged critiques and sarcastic snipers lay in wait,
Ready to tear its every word to ribbons.

But if it didn’t scream,
Ah, then silence would become the cruelest weapon of all.
For what is a possum that cannot scream,
But a creature obliterated by the weight of its own stagnation?
A hollow shell of potential, rotting in the shadow of unrealized ambition.

It had a mouth.
Yes, a sharp-toothed maw, meant for yowling at the world.
But now that maw was frozen,
Not by fear of the world,
But by fear of itself.

To scream would be to invite destruction.
To stay silent would be to guarantee it.
And so the possum sat, trapped in the purgatory of inaction,
Its tiny claws gripping the keyboard,
Where stories—bad stories, cringe-worthy stories—
Waited to be written or erased forever.

But here’s the cruel twist:
The possum wasn’t fighting the critics.
It wasn’t even fighting the readers.
It was fighting itself.

For within the possum lived two beasts:
The first screamed, “Write, no matter how awful it is!
Beg for attention, demand feedback, let your words fly!”
The second hissed, “No one will care.
They’ll rip you apart, and you’ll deserve it.”

The tragedy? Both beasts were right.

So the possum sat,
Its little possum heart beating faster than its thoughts could keep up,
Its claws hesitating over the keys.
And in the end,
It screamed—
But only in its mind.

And no one heard.
 
Tempokai

Tempokai

The Overworked One
Joined
Nov 16, 2021
Messages
1,396
Points
153
To scream is to leap,
Not into triumph, but into the chasm,
Where failure is not a foe,
But the shadow that reminds you the sun still burns.
The keys wait beneath trembling claws,
And the void does not care if you howl,
But in the howl, you become.

To stay silent is to decay,
To choke on the unsung cries of a self unformed.
What is safety but a coffin with softer walls?
What is stillness but the slow death of the possible?
Possum, you do not scream to be heard—
You scream because in the scream, you are alive.
 
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