Inspiration is a simple thing.
Like hope with its feathers,
It spreads its wings.
But the universe chose a cruel design.
It's kinda like Icarus:
You can't fly too low or too high.
Burned by the sun,
Drowned by the sea,
Still, we chase what sets us free.
A flicker, a spark, a breath of flame
And somehow, we try all the same.
Because even knowing how it ends,
We rise again on trembling winds.
About the Creator
The Omnichromiter
I write stories like spells—soft at the edges, sharp underneath. My poems are curses in lace, lullabies that bite back. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I believe in survival, transformation; in burning and blooming at the same time.
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