
The Verses That Should Not Be
Within these pages lie the echoes of nightmares too old for memory and too cruel for myth. Told in verse, each tale unearths a cursed soul, a monstrous truth, or a fate worse than death—etched in poetic form and bound by silence, shadow, and suffering.
From haunted fields and blood-stained rings to painted smiles and drowned flames, these horrors are not imagined. They are remembered—by the earth, by the void, and by those who dared to speak their names.
This is no anthology... This is a warning!!!
Download Freely… Read carefully… Read quietly…
Some verses do not stay silent.
No 1:
Victor Malvine: The Toymaker
"Your childhood dreams are his worst nightmare."
In the soot-stained alleys of a forgotten town, the children whisper of a man who never died. Victor Malvine, a master toymaker of the 19th century, was burned alive for the unspeakable things he crafted in his workshop—lifelike toys stitched with sorrow, cursed with stolen souls.
But fire was not the end. It was the beginning.
Now, Victor haunts the world as a vengeful spirit, his essence bound to a collection of nightmarish toys and a realm of ticking clocks, splintered lullabies, and poetic justice. Those who exploit innocence, betray children, or trade trust for profit find themselves lured into his surreal playroom—where games have consequences, and every story ends with a scream.
Told through ten haunting poems, The Toymaker is a gothic descent into guilt, vengeance, and the fragile remains of lost childhoods.
You broke their toys.
Now he’ll break you.

No 12:
Magnus Vale: The Crimson Canvas
“Step into my ring… and become part of the legacy.”
Magnus Vale was more than undefeated—he was unchallenged. A crimson-masked titan of the underground wrestling circuit, his victories were brutal, his legend unstoppable. But beneath the roar of the crowd and the thunder of the mat, something darker stirred.
Beneath the ring, a pact was made. Beneath the canvas, souls were claimed.
Now, Magnus returns wherever ego bleeds and pride steps between the ropes. His promos hex minds. His pins erase identities. And every ring becomes his altar—every match, a ritual.
Once the bell tolls, it’s already too late.

New Poem Collection Coming Soon
Coming Soon.
Coming Soon!





