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a poetry collection by




























© 2017 Nickolas John Zakharia. The author retains sole copyright to his or her contributions to this publication.
This publication is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This publication may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.]













For the silent thinkers.






Note from the Author

As an 18 year old, I am one to believe that not all things result in happy endings, yet there is a sense of beauty in the pain. This collection aims to present the reader with the dark undertones of emotional turmoil in a way that exposes their artistic qualities in regards to raw, human emotion. Further, my own experiences have attributed towards the process of creating these poems as I attempt to draw from what I have felt and encountered. I truly believe that at whatever age, people are able to experience the elements of what are entrenched into the ideas behind my work – which is why I have compiled a collection of poetry that have written from the age of 15 to 18. Welcome to my mind, and welcome to my vision.



High Rise



Taste of Demise



Dispossessed Heartaches

Violent Serenity



Simple Longings



Voices of the Damned

Aftermath of Admiration

Cold Souls

Nightly Quarrels

Confined Roses



Suns of Fate

Unfinished Chapters


The Hollow Souls


Emotional Abandoning



Broken Sea



Darkened Woes


Settled Demeanors


New Tides

Puppets of Sin


Minds and Hearts

Forgotten Voices



Darkened Sights


Lost Valentine

Dances with the Unfamiliar

Red Light District


Words in the Wind


Lost Epoch

No Morals



No Heaven



On the Day I Lost You














High Rise


No sunlight for my joy;

Reflections as empty as their entities;

So disheartened in bearing the night’s emotion;

You have escaped into the town;

While I remain close to the sky;

Yet beneath your tread;

Oppressed by our fate;

Alone in a high rise with no foundation;

Toppling over the pillars that I have raised;

So worn and decayed;

As I crumble to your absence.


You must have been just another illusion;

Entranced by the lights of the city that don’t turn off;

My skyscraper home needs to block out the light;

Just this once don’t let me fall from my high rise;
To the thoughts of you tonight.

Darkness in my hotel of insanity;

As street lights pierce through the window panes;

With your memories scattered throughout their pollution of fake warmth;

Much like your coy dejection towards my offerings of affection;

As I now reside in solitude.

The silhouette of a single figure in a glass square;

Gazing onwards to where your night has ended;

My tower of thoughts cannot see the horizon;

Only the moon is open to my sorrow;

For I sleep through days without you;

And embellish myself in nights of thought;

Incarcerated by my city’s vista;

Prosperity cannot cure the lonesome.


A lost king with no queen is what remains of me;

For you have left the castle that oversees the world;

Our ruling has crumbled;

But her ashes remain;

And her fires plant themselves amongst the lights;

In a metropolis of promiscuity.

I look down at my burning kingdom;

But I fall to the ground at the sight of you;

Looking up for a glimmer of our past;

Drinking from a half empty bottle;

As lights outside windows blur my mind;

Drifting out of touch with the present;
And into the abyss of the forgotten.




Hidden from a dark reality;
That’s gluttonous in its selfish hunger;
The grimace ways of sickened lies;
Conducting the chords of conflict;
Veins are filled with poisonous fallacies;
As the truth is left to sear in brimstone;
Subjected to a life not chosen;
The wicked have no return.

Sunsets darken upon a lost past;
Their rays mutate into vile regret;
Shouting at the heavens for answers;
Yet fate’s reasons are left untold;
As the skies begin to weep the pain of
what lies beneath them.



Silent weeps of discrete malevolence;
Contoured by a past of deep regret;
Stirring in the night;
As the day neglects the reality;
His dreams morph into a spiraling mirage;
Of what could have been the present;
Yet are ridden in fallacy.

Narcotics do not satisfy his insanity;
As the caffeine no longer can keep him awake;
His eyes begin to clasp shut;
Drowning in tears of detachment and gloom;
A feeling that is as unforgiving as unquestioned.

Determined to escape from what is deemed as the nonsensical;
The canvas of his heart has been forever stained;
With the mark of the possibilities;
That shifted into vague memories;
Memories he relives while alone.

Abandoned from those whom were once by his side;
All that remains is an empty bottle of vodka;
Consumed in his melancholic state;
As the boy suffocates within his own mind;
Creating his own world;
Inside the one that has already doomed him.


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  • ISBN: 9781370597444
  • Author: Nick Zakharia
  • Published: 2017-01-01 14:20:21
  • Words: 6833
Visions Visions