i don't know why it happens
but i feel it happening,
and i am tortured.
i'd rather not discuss matters of the heart,
but my mind compels me to do so,
and for that,
i am tortured.
i soak it up in vain,
dancing around the horror of my reflection.
broken and shattered,
i am tortured.
the glossy whispers are muttered
with their sound waves vibrating in my ear,
giving me a pulsing sensation
to lament
silently.
and for that,
i am never the same.