Shadowed sun
When I was small, the light would sting,
It cut too deep, too bright a thing.
It burned my name; it made me fade—
So, I sought shade for what it made.
Beneath the bed, behind the door,
I felt the dark begin to pour.
It wrapped me close, it hummed so low,
“We’ll teach you ways the light won’t know.”
The sun was sharp, the truth was bare,
but shadows breathed a gentler air.
They taught me how to see and be,
in colors lost to eyes like me.
They didn’t snuff my trembling spark,
they shaped its glow to live in dark.
They whispered soft, “You’re not undone—
Your fire’s ours, a shadowed sun.”
Their warmth was strange, their love was near,
They burned my doubt, but not my fear.
And when the dawn began to bend,
my flame had changed—but did not end.
Now, when I wake, I burn unseen,
a darkened glow, a space between.
And in that hush, both fierce and slight,
I gave my vow—to walk as night.

Biography:

I’m the kind of person who finds home in the world of Corpse Bride, the deep hue of nightshade purple, and the striking form of an acidic lily. As a Slytherin with a lifelong affinity for the macabre, I spend my time collecting crystals and building terrariums with ethically sourced bones and insects. This same aesthetic fuels my small business, Garnet Fox Creations, where I bring my love for unique, handmade pieces to life. Whether I am crafting or writing, I find constant inspiration in the raw energy of Billie Eilish, the vivid textures of Vincent van Gogh, and the atmosphere of Stephen King’s novels.

At 21, I am a first-generation student beginning my studies in psychology at Aims. My path to college has been defined by a deep sense of independence; I earned my GED on my own and am currently putting myself through school, having worked from a very young age. These experiences taught me to use art as a vital way to process my life. For me, poetry is like music—a rhythmic bridge between my natural and supernatural interests.

My work often explores themes that others might find uncomfortable, as I have always found a sense of solace in the dark. While art is not my only resource, it is an essential tool for my mental health, providing a release for complicated emotions and problems so I can process them with clarity. I write to show that these darker parts of life are not things to fear, but things to be lived with and understood. I hope my work encourages others to view their own creativity as a sanctuary and a powerful means of healing.