Welcome to the world of 'Shatterbox'. Discover the unnerving fantasy within Skye's Pen. Dive into the fantasy and unnerving poems crafted by Skye, designed to leave you feeling slightly uncomfortable, yet captivated.

Shatterbox

 

The house stood on a windswept hill,

A weathered shell, against the chill.

Four walls of gray, a roof of slate,

Concealing whispers, sealed by fate.

The name it held, a bitter jest,

"Harmony Heights," put to the test.

For harmony was absent there,

Replaced by silence and despair.

 

The father, John, a man of stone,

His heart a field where naught was sown.

His words were sharp, like shards of glass,

That cut and maimed, and came to pass

As gospel truth, unyielding, cold,

A story often to be told.

His brow was furrowed, deep and hard,

A silent judge, a watchful guard.

 

The mother, Mary, spirit frail,

A withered bloom within a gale.

Her eyes, once bright with youthful fire,

Now held the ashes of desire.

She moved with shadows, soft and meek,

Afraid to speak, afraid to creak

The fragile peace, the strained facade,

That kept the chaos unexploded, awed.

 

Their children, two, caught in the fray,

Each fighting in their own bleak way.

The elder, Sarah, quick and bright,

A beacon struggling in the night.

She sought escape in books and dreams,

To navigate the silent screams

That echoed through the halls so wide,

Where love had withered, and had died.

 

The younger, Thomas, strong and bold,

A rebel's heart, a story told

In angry outbursts, slammed-shut doors,

And fights on dusty, kitchen floors.

He bore the brunt, the family's rage,

A lightning rod on life's grim stage.

His wounds were visible and raw,

A testament to broken law.

 

Each day began the same, a dread,

A weight of words left unsaid.

Breakfast was silent, cold, and quick,

Each one avoiding, every trick

To spark the anger, latent deep,

That John would carefully keep

Controlled, yet simmering beneath,

A ticking bomb, a waiting death.

 

The school bell rang, a sweet reprieve,

For Sarah, desperate to believe

That somewhere, order might exist,

Where logic reigned, and love had kissed

The brow of knowledge, pure and true,

A world beyond the gray and blue

Of Harmony Heights, a promised land,

Beyond her father's iron hand.

 

But Thomas stayed, a captive bound,

By anger festering all around.

He skipped his classes, roamed the streets,

A bitter taste, defeat that meets

Him at each corner, every turn,

A lesson harsh, that he must learn:

That life's unfair, and love's a lie,

Beneath a cold and vacant sky.

 

Mary would clean, a ceaseless chore,

Dusting the ghosts of what was before.

The photographs, a mocking show,

Of smiling faces, long ago.

She'd polish silver, worn and thin,

Reflecting back the hollow grin

She wore for others, just in case,

They glimpsed the sorrow in her face.

 

John, in his study, locked away,

Would drink his sorrows, day by day.

His business failing, pride concealed,

He felt his power slowly yield

To creditors and mounting debts,

He saw the end, felt bitter frets.

He blamed his family, every one,

For all the damage he had done.

 

One night, a storm raged, fierce and wild,

Mirroring the turmoil, unreconciled,

That churned within the house's heart,

Ready to tear the world apart.

The wind howled loud, a mournful cry,

As lightning slashed across the sky.

A power outage, plunged them all,

Into a darkness, meant to fall.

 

Then voices rose, a bitter clash,

Between John and Thomas, quick and rash.

Words, like weapons, sharp and keen,

Revealed the anger, long unseen.

Accusations flew, a venomous tide,

Each festering wound, laid open wide.

Mary stood trembling, pale and weak,

Unable to control, unable to speak.

 

Sarah descended, drawn by fear,

To witness all that she held dear,

Dissolve before her very eyes,

Beneath the weight of hateful lies.

She tried to reason, plead and beg,

To stop the fighting, stem the peg

Of anger, bursting from its hold,

A story painfully untold.

 

But Thomas, fueled by years of pain,

Released the fury, unrestrained.

He struck his father, hard and fast,

A blow delivered, meant to last.

John staggered back, his face contorted,

His anger rising, now imported

From some dark place, within his soul,

Beyond all reason, beyond control.

 

He grabbed a lamp, a heavy thing,

And swung it wildly, on the swing.

It shattered, sending shards of light,

Across the darkness of the night.

One piece struck Mary, in the head,

She fell to the floor, lifeless, dead.

 

Silence descended, thick and cold,

A story ended, tragically told.

John stared in horror, at the sight,

The consequence of endless fight.

Thomas, in shock, began to weep,

His anger lost, in sorrow deep.

Sarah stood frozen, unable to breathe,

Witnessing loss, and bitter grief.

 

The police arrived, with flashing lights,

To break the silence of the nights.

John was arrested, led away,

His life in ruins, come what may.

Thomas was questioned, filled with dread,

Haunted by the vision of the dead.

Sarah was left, alone to face,

The emptiness of that desolate place.

 

Harmony Heights, a shatterbox,

Reduced to rubble, turned to rocks.

The winds still howled, across the hill,

Carrying whispers, bleak and shrill.

A monument to love denied,

Where hope had withered, and had died.

A warning tale, for all to heed,

The seeds of anger, what they feed.

And Sarah watched the dawn arise,

With empty heart, and tear filled eyes.

The weight of the world, upon her lay,

A haunting scene, to start the day.

No family, no love, no place to go,

Only the memory of the afterglow,

Of what could have been, a distant dream,

Lost in the shatterbox, it would seem.

The shatterbox, a house of pain,

Where love was lost, again, and again.

And the wind it sings a mournful song,

Of a family broken, where did they go wrong?

A shattered dream, a family torn,

In the shatterbox, forever to mourn.

Chance of Rain

 

The weatherman spoke on the radio clear,

A forecast of sunshine, banishing fear,

But a tremor I felt, in the pit of my soul,

A gathering darkness beyond my control.

He promised blue skies, a vibrant parade,

But my heart held a shadow, a storm unmade.

 

I brewed a strong coffee, a shield 'gainst the grey,

And forced a bright smile, for the start of the day,

But the taste was like ashes, the smile felt a lie,

Reflecting the tears that were building inside.

He spoke of warm breezes, a gentle caress,

But I knew in my marrow, emotional distress.

 

The sun, a bold beacon, broke through the east pane,

Painting the kitchen with gold, chasing pain,

Or so it would seem, to a casual eye,

But the clouds were assembling, inside my mind’s sky.

He chirped of high pressure, a stable terrain,

But the pressure was mounting, a tightening chain.

 

I dressed in bright colours, a defiant display,

Against the encroaching and inevitable grey,

A yellow sundress, a necklace of pearl,

But the storm was approaching, a tightening swirl.

He guaranteed dryness, a comfort to keep,

But the dam in my spirit was starting to weep.

 

I stepped out the doorway, into the bright light,

And blinked at the brilliance, a dazzling sight,

But the beauty felt hollow, a paper-thin screen,

Concealing the tempest that raged deep within.

He vowed a dry passage, no reason to fret,

But the path I was walking, was already wet.

 

The first drop surprised me, a sting on my cheek,

A rogue little rebel, remarkably meek,

A whisper of warning, a subtle advance,

Of the torrent impending, a sorrowful dance.

He’d said it was settled, the atmosphere calm,

But this single raindrop, was a silencing psalm.

 

I quickened my footsteps, attempted to flee,

The sorrowful downpour, threatening me,

But the sky overhead, shifted and sighed,

And the dam in my heart, finally died.

He spoke of fair weather, extending afar,

But the rain started falling, no longer to bar.

 

A gentle soft drizzle, at first it began,

A cleansing, a soothing, a watery plan,

To wash away burdens, to ease the deep ache,

To soften the edges, for goodness's sake.

He'd promised perfection, a flawless bright day,

But the clouds had prevailed, in their sorrowful sway.

 

And then it grew harder, a steady cascade,

A relentless downpour, a watery raid,

Upon all my senses, a soaking embrace,

Erasing the smile from my tear-stained face.

He’d said it was sunny, no reason to grieve,

But the rain kept on falling, I couldn't believe.

 

I found shelter beneath, an old oak tree’s bough,

The branches providing, some comfort somehow,

But the leaves offered little, against the onslaught,

Of sorrow and sadness, so fiercely hard-fought.

He’d painted a picture, of radiant cheer,

But the rain was a canvas, of sorrow and fear.

 

And there, in the downpour, I finally broke,

The dam that had held me, the words I had spoke,

To silence the pain, to stifle the tears,

Erased in the deluge, of all of my fears.

He'd promised no rainfall, no clouds in the sky,

But the tears were now flowing, I couldn't deny.

 

The sobs wracked my body, a shuddering release,

Of pent-up emotion, a desperate plea for peace,

The rain mingled freely, with tears on my face,

A blurring of sorrows, in this desolate place.

He'd said it was joyous, a day to adore,

But the pain was relentless, and begging for more.

 

I cried for lost chances, for dreams that had died,

For broken connections, where love had once resided,

For all the unspoken, the things left unsaid,

The burdens I carried, inside of my head.

He'd promised contentment, a solace to find,

But the rain echoed hollow, the emptiness behind.

 

I cried for the futures, that would never be,

The hopes that had withered, beneath a dead tree,

The laughter extinguished, the joy turned to dust,

The promises broken, the shattering of trust.

He'd promised a future, so bright and so bold,

But the rain washed it away, a story untold.

 

The oak tree stood silent, a witness to pain,

Absorbing the deluge, of sorrow and rain,

Its ancient old branches, a comforting hold,

As the storm in my spirit, began to unfold.

He'd promised security, a firm steady ground,

But the earth felt unsteady, with sorrow profound.

 

And slowly, as time passed, the downpour decreased,

The sobs became quieter, a hesitant peace,

A glimmer of sunlight, peeked through the grey clouds,

A promise of healing, escaping its shrouds.

He'd been wrong about weather, a misread of the sky,

But perhaps in the darkness, some strength would reside.

 

The rain-soaked ground glistened, reflecting the light,

A rainbow appeared, a magnificent sight,

A bridge to new beginnings, a colourful sign,

That even in darkness, beauty can shine.

He'd failed in his forecast, a terrible shame,

But the rainbow appeared, whispering hope's name.

 

The air felt refreshed, cleansed and renewed,

A sense of release, misunderstood,

By those who expected, perpetual sun,

Ignoring the solace, the rain had begun.

He’d chased away shadows, with promises bold,

But the rain washed them clean, a story to be told.

 

I lifted my face, to the lingering drops,

And felt a strange lightness, as sorrow now stops,

The weight of the world, seemed a little less vast,

The future uncertain, but shadows now passed.

He’d missed the disruption, the coming of storm,

But the sun was returning, keeping me warm.

 

For sometimes, the rain, is a necessary thing,

To wash away sorrows, and let your heart sing,

To cleanse the old wounds, to allow them to heal,

To find strength in weakness, and make your spirit real.

He’d aimed for perfection, a faultless display,

But the rain had revealed, a better way.

 

So let the rain fall, let the tears freely flow,

For in the acceptance, your spirit will grow,

Embrace the dark moments, the sorrow, the pain,

For after the tempest, the sun shines again.

He'd sought to deny it, the power of grief,

But the rain taught me lessons, and granted relief.

 

The weatherman later, apologised deep,

For his inaccurate forecast, the promise he'd keep,

To be more attentive, to signs in the air,

To understand better, the burdens we bear.

He learned from his error, a valuable thing,

That even in forecasting, truth you must bring.

 

And I, in the aftermath, soaked to the bone,

Found a strength I hadn't suspected, alone,

A resilience born of, surviving the storm,

A knowledge that sorrow, can also transform.

He'd failed in prediction, but nature was true,

And the chance of the rain, had made me anew.