Holiday Bliss

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The year turns slow, a measured, quiet grace,
The final, faded green surrenders place.
The frost begins to cling, a crystal sheen,
Upon the windowpane, a painted scene.
And through the air, a certain sweet note rings,
The hushed anticipation that it brings.
The scent of pine, a memory held dear,
The flicker of the flame that conquers fear.
The simple joy of calling out a name,
A bond rekindled in the hearth’s warm frame.
For in this season, when the world grows dim,
We gather close—the sturdy branch upon the limb.

The laughter spills from kitchens warm and bright,
A symphony of comfort, pure delight.
Reflecting back the twinkling festive light,
That chases shadows from the longest night.
The worn traditions, comforting and deep,
The silent vows the generations keep.
The treasured tales the passing years will house,
Whispered from grandmother to the spouse.
A mother’s gentle touch, a father’s quiet gaze,
The simple, stunning peace of family days.
We hold these moments, fleeting, fine, and fast,
A glowing anchor, built to truly last.
A tapestry of love in every thread,
The unsaid promises that are instead
Of grand pronouncements, simple, steady truth,
Revisiting the spirit of our youth.

Yet, in this clamor of good cheer and sound,
A deeper, silent shadow can be found.
For some hearts ache beneath the tinsel’s sheen,
Where loneliness resides, unheard, unseen.
Invisible the struggles, sharp, and keen,
The quiet battle fought behind a screen.
A heavy blanket where the light should bloom,
The suffocating weight of silent gloom.
A quiet echo in an empty room,
A whispered prayer within a sealed-off tomb.
The world rushes by with cheer and bright display,
Ignoring those who simply cannot play.

O Holy night, when love first filled the sky,
When hope descended from the heavens high,
We lift a fervent, humble, heartfelt cry:
For every soul that walks in winter’s shade,
Whose burdened spirit feels unseen, afraid—
For those who carry burdens heavy, long,
Who cannot join the general, joyful song—
May they know comfort, strength, and gentle rest,
And find the solace of a single, soft breast.

We open wide the door, the hearth, the chair,
A gesture pure, a message we can share.
To banish loneliness with genuine care,
To offer sanctuary from the chill air.
If your own light is faltering, low, and weak,
It is our kinship that we humbly seek.
You are not strange; you are not far; you belong,
Come share our shelter, join our welcoming song.
Let silence break, let every fear release,
And find within these walls a lasting peace.
May every spirit, broken, bruised, or sad,
Be touched by peace, and know they are made glad
Not just by feasting, bright and well-supplied,
But by love’s true grace that flows on every tide—
A safe, warm haven in this hallowed place,
Reflecting God’s own open, kind embrace.

Acceptance is the Key

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The weight of a thousand eyes presses down,
A silent, ceaseless judgment that I drown
Within. I worry too much, an endless loop
Of anxious thoughts, a psychological stoop

About how others see me—the fleeting glance,
The subtle shift, the judgment they advance.
Each interaction is a stage, a test,
Where my own self-worth is put to the best
Or worst assessment by an external gauge.
I turn each minor slip into a mental cage.

I worry too much, an unrelenting fear,
About whether they like me, holding me dear,
Or casting me aside with cold indifference.
The need for approval is a fierce presence,
A hunger I can never seem to appease,
Searching for acceptance on every breeze.

I worry too much, the constant, weary drain,
About what others think, the imagined stain
They see upon my character or my name.
This scrutiny I project is a cruel game,
Where I am both the player and the prize,
Obsessed with the mirrors in other people’s eyes.

Why does it matter so much to me, this need
To fit the mold, to plant the perfect seed
Of a flawless persona in their minds?
Why do I seek the validation that binds
Me to their opinion, tethering my peace
To whether or not their judgments cease?

The mask I wear is finely wrought and bright.
I say, with forced conviction and feigned might,
It doesn’t bother me. My voice is steady, low.
I put, with practiced ease, a flawless show,
On a brave face, a fortress built of stone,
Pretending I stand confidently alone.

But the truth is, the internal tremor starts,
It does bother me, deep within the hidden parts.
The words I speak are often just a lie,
A desperate attempt to watch the worry die.
The fear of rejection is a constant, nagging ache,
A vulnerability I cannot fully forsake.

I want to move on from these consuming thoughts,
To sever the chains of ‘what-if’ and ‘what-nots’.
I want to rid myself of the debilitating idea,
That everyone has to like me, crystal clear,
A fantasy that keeps me small and tight.
I long to stand securely in my own light.

No matter what I say or do, the true release
Lies not in their affection, but in my own peace.
Acceptance is the key, the final, crucial stand.
Acceptance of who I am, etched by my own hand,
And the profound, unshakable belief that I am worthy,
Not because they say it, but because I know the worth of me.
I will claim my own value and finally be free.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

Begging You to Read My Book

This is a request from the bottom of my heart. I put a piece of their soul into this book, dreaming of the day it would find its readers. I’m asking you, begging you… please be one of my readers. If you’ve ever wanted to support an author’s dream, if you’ve ever wanted to get in on the ground floor of a new series you can fall in love with, please give The Shadow Realm Chronicles: Maeve a chance. This is how dreams live or die. Please. Read it. Fall in love.

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I thought you were my certain shield,
The one true, steadfast, loyal friend.
A naive conviction, now revealed,
That you would stand until the end,
No matter the storm, the challenge faced,
Your full resolve, completely placed.

I sought a fierce, unwavering vow,
A pure defense, holding nothing back,
A perfect pledge, as you know how,
To guard my ground along the track.
A hundred percent, my only plea,
Undeniable fealty.

But that fierce certainty is gone,
A shattered faith, a painful lie.
I wake to realize at dawn,
I lack the worth that merits why—
I’m not enough, I see it clear,
To warrant that support so dear.

The wound of ‘sorry’ is a slight,
A shallow balm that cannot mend
The hollow ache of broken light;
It will not bring the hurt to end.
For others hold a higher seat,
They taste the loyalty I greet.

And so, the starkest truth remains,
A bitter draught I must consume:
To face the isolating rains,
To walk alone within the gloom.
I must accept, in every plight,
I stand completely by my light.

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I am Broken

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I am broken.

The words, sharp and unwarranted,
slice through the fragile shell I built.
Tiny, invisible blades, their power immense,
carving my heart into scattered, irreparable pieces.

My carefully constructed dreams,
ambitious plans, vital goals—
all crumble before this onslaught,
a lifetime of building reduced to dust.
My essence, fractured, lies on the cold floor.

Why do these ephemeral sounds,
mere vibrations in the air, hurt so?
Why grant them such devastating power,
to tear the fabric of our being,
to leave us utterly immobilized?

With a deep, shuddering breath, I rise.
Muscles protest, heavy with despair.
I kneel, picking mangled, bleeding pieces
from the unforgiving floor,
cradling the remnants, a silent cry.

I try, with feverish intensity, to mend—
reaching for glue, tape, harsh staples.
But none of them hold.
The cracks are too deep, the breaks too fundamental.
A heart shattered by words
cannot be fixed by physical objects

Again, the haunting question returns:
Why do I give words this power?
Why allow such deep, lingering pain?

Yet, the act of kneeling has shifted something.
I stand up, not whole, but resilient.
I place my broken, but still beating, heart
back into my chest,
and with a final act of defiance, I dust myself off.

The reality remains:
Words possess the power to tear us down,
to reduce us to rubble,
weapons that wound the soul.

But words are not solely destruction.
They possess the capacity to restore.
A single, well-placed phrase—
of kindness, encouragement, or understanding—
can be the foundation upon which we rebuild.

Love, in its purest expression,
is the ultimate healing force,
articulated through sincere, positive words,
what ultimately saves us all.

Words can tear you down.
Words can also lift you up.

Choose your words with the highest intention.
Strive always to lift a spirit,
to reinforce worth, to acknowledge a presence.

Never fail to be kind.
Kindness is the shield against the world’s harsh words,
the balm for its inflicted injuries.

Remember this immutable truth:
Words are a powerful, double-edged sword.
They can drag someone into the deepest pit of despair,
or elevate them to heights of strength and hope.

Use this profound tool with meticulous care.
Wield your words to heal, to encourage, and to restore.

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A Flower

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A Flower

A flower blooms in the soft morning light,
A silent promise of enduring might.
Spreading its delicate petals, a vibrant hue,
Out to the warmth, the life-giving sun, shining anew.

The celestial rhythm, the sun's grand ballet,
It rises with hope, and then fades away.
Each day a fresh chapter, a pristine, clean slate,
A boundless opportunity, sealed by no fate.

Each new dawn brings a chance for profound, lasting change,
To break free from confines, to truly rearrange.
Each passing hour holds a chance for true greatness to bloom,
To conquer the darkness and dispel all the gloom.
Each single day is a new chance to reach for the dream,
To fuel the deep passion, the bright, inner gleam.

The flower drinks deep of the sun's golden shower,
Sustained by the light in this fleeting, sweet hour.
It unfurls its beauty, a joy to behold and to see,
Sharing its splendor with all, wild and free.

Be like the flower, resilient and bold,
Let your spirit unfold, a magnificent story told.
Spread your unique petals, your gifts and your grace,
For the world to witness, in this time and this place.


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🩸🧚‍♀️ New Read Alert! Dive into “The Shadow Realm Chronicles: Maeve” by Nancy Ann Creed!

🩸🧚‍♀️ New Read Alert! Dive into “The Shadow Realm Chronicles: Maeve” by Nancy Ann Creed!

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If you’re looking for a dark, compelling story about love, betrayal, and the fight for your soul, this book is for you.

Meet Maeve, once a loving mother and fairy , whose life is shattered when she is turned into a vampire by Marius. The story follows her journey from desperate mother to a formidable figure entangled in the plots of the rulers of the realms.

What Awaits You: A World Torn by War: The story is set against the backdrop of the devastating Great War, involving all the realms.

A Twisted Love Triangle (and more!): Maeve is the wife of Hunter Marks, who turns on her when she becomes a vampire. She is later given to the mysterious Shadow King (Jonathan) as payment for an undead army, and he is deeply in love with her.

Family Secrets and Betrayal: The narrative delves deep into the complicated Marks family, including Maeve and Hunter’s son, Alexander, and their grandson, Matthew. Hidden dangers lurk, including the mad king Julian Fairchild and the secrets surrounding Matthew and Maurelle’s son, Shawn (Justin).

Darkness vs. Light: Maeve struggles with the monster she has become and the persistent light of her former self, especially in her connection to Hunter and her children. She amasses her own army of forgotten souls, led by her trusted friend, General Maxwell Lincoln.

Will Maeve succumb to the darkness or reclaim the light and her family? Which side will win? You’ll have to read to find out! #TheShadowRealmChronicles #Maeve #NancyAnnCreed #VampireFantasy #DarkFantasy #FantasyBooks #ParanormalRomance #Fae #UrbanFantasy #MustRead

The Illusion of Kinship

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They claim the name of “friend,” a title bright,
Yet stand as distant as the stars’ cold light.
Their voices, once a vibrant, clear refrain,
Now reach the ear as faint, distorted pain,
Lost, perhaps, in some far, forgotten bar.
They speak of history, of shared delight,
A woven tapestry of days gone by,
But in this stark and unforgiving now,
Only their deep, loud silence makes a vow—
A painful echo, truer than their word.

A Hollow Bond

What lingers is a hollow, empty shell,
A bond without true grace or truth to tell.
A fleeting shadow, swift to disappear,
Leaving no trace upon the heart held dear.
How dare they wear that loyal title still,
When constant absence proves against their will
A bond untrue, a pretense built on air?
Friendship’s true essence is betrayed by care
And presence that they utterly withhold,
A story of detachment, stark and cold.

Unkept Promises and Letting Go
This fragile friendship rose on broken ground,
Of promises unkept, no solace found.

Aspirations whispered, never meant to bloom,
Commitments scattered to an early tomb.
A frail construction, easily swept wide
By life’s small currents, or convenient tide.
The time has come for separation’s plea,
A painful truth that sets the spirit free.
So cherish those whose actions speak of grace,
Whose faithful presence keeps its steady pace.
And with resolve, and self-respect’s strong hand,
Let go of those who fail to understand
The burden shared, the joy, the vital art,

Required to keep a true bond in the heart.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Unspoken Question of Worth

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The Unspoken Question of Worth

Am I a difficult person to be friends with?
The question echoes in the lonely silence,
A heavy query, weighted by repeated pain.
I dissect each word, each passing glance,
Seeking the flaw so visible to others’ eyes,
Yet stubbornly opaque, a shadow on my own stain.

Am I too awkward, my presence a strain?
Does nervousness stilt the practiced conversation?
I rehearse the words, the balance I must find,
To hold the moment, a calculated equation.
But the words tumble out, a chaotic, hurried rush,
Leaving the perfect moment behind.

Am I too anxious, a constant, worrying hum?
A fear of saying too much, of taking up space,
Of simply being a burden, too large, too loud.
This anxiety, palpable, a barrier I can’t erase,
A repellent field that pushes people away,
Before a true connection is allowed.

Do I forget to hold my tongue’s sharp edge?
I value honesty, perhaps too stark and free.
I speak without the varnish of social grace,
And the truth, though gently offered, can still be
Mistaken for bluntness, a candor that drives them out.
What is it? A flaw I cannot place.

I don’t have many friends; the truth is stark.
My circle’s small, fragile, and often transient.
I don’t know what’s wrong, the fundamental divide.
While others form bonds, lasting and resilient,
Mine disintegrate like paper submerged in water,
With nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide.

I am a friend until a better one appears.
I serve a purpose, a stand-in for the interim,
A convenient stop until a brighter option’s found.
I am never good enough, always on the rim;
The comparison is the moment of my replacement.
I am the waiting room, not the desired ground.

I hold on too long, clinging to the frayed thread,
Stretching the inevitable goodbye, a profound fear.
My loyalty, my constancy, becomes a weight,
A burden they let go, holding nothing dear.
Sometimes I must be the one to let go first,
A painful, self-preserving, final tear.

It is lonely at times, profoundly I miss
The shared laughter, the feeling of belonging, deep inside.
But is it real, or the memory idealized?
A performance they gave, while they stood by my side,
Waiting for the true cast, the better friends to arrive.
In the lie of the past, there’s no place left to confide.

I will be there for those who need me to be.
My nature unchanged, I offer care freely,
A reliable constant, though never the primary light.
If you want me to go, tell me honestly.
Spare me the slow fade, the ghosting, the agonizing fight.
But if you call again, I’ll return without demanding right.

Cherish the friends who remain by your side.
Focus on the true constants, the precious, small few.
If some want to leave, let them walk away;
Their departure speaks of their needs, not a judgment on you.
Accept the impermanence, hold the good memories fast,
And keep the door open for the few who are true.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Tie Is Severed

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The Tie Is Severed

I lost a friend today,
A simple, heavy line
That should descend like sorrow’s shroud,
A grief for what was mine.
I waited for the cutting edge,
The sting of sudden pain,
But found instead a strange relief,
No shadow of a chain.

I should be sad, should mourn the end,
The history we knew,
Yet in my chest a lightness wakes,
Defiant, strong, and new.
The truth is stark, the choice is clear,
I look upon the past:
I am not sorry that it broke,
I am simply glad at last.

The severing was not a hush,
But clash of will and word,
A necessary, cleansing fire
Where my own truth was heard.
I stood firm in the tempest’s heart,
Refused to be denied,
And drew a boundary, sharp and deep,
With nothing left to hide.

The lesson’s hard, but vital known:
Respect must be the core.
A friend should cheer the victory,
And lift you from the floor.
Your champions, they must remain,
To hold your spirit high,
But when support becomes resentment,
The basic contract dies.

When ally turns to critic’s shade,
A drain upon your soul,
They’ve breached the terms of fundamental trust,
And lost their rightful role.
The choice is not of cruelty,
But self-preserving might,
To cast the anchor from the boat,
And step back toward the light.

Assess the ones within your ship,
As you begin to rise;
Not all are rowing for your cause,
Some paddle with disguise.
Your soaring ambition reveals their truth,
Their loyalty gives way,
As jealousy’s shadow clips your wings,
And clouds your brighter day.

So now I mourn the anchor lost,
The friend who pulled me down.
The feeling is no sad despair,
But freedom’s joyful crown.
A paradoxical, weary joy,
A wish that bonds would hold,
Yet still the weight is wholly gone,
A future to unfold.

The boat is lighter now it sails,
The struggle set aside.
I’m rowing, finally, alone,
With nothing left to hide.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd