How can you sleep at night when you live to **** and torture children?
When your sole focus and purpose is child exploitation?
How can you even breathe?
How can you drink fresh water, that doesn’t taste of blood… that doesn’t choke you?

When all you believe in is hunting down innocence hydrated from mud pools, pulling it from its bud and burning dreams to a crust, calm in your mask of nonchalance…
When the child within and the child you’ve broken - watches you perform these abhorrent acts; how does the child within not shake with terror and repulsion, and every morning that you wake try to destroy you?…

Where are they? There is no child in you…
You are bleak, worthless, worse than sadness, not even material; just the drop of a soulless heartbeat in a void that drags on a **** cigar that will eventually crumble…

For now, you will try to butcher fine lands of olive trees and **** the green…
But you won’t succeed, because you are nothing but weakness

And the distant baby hearts that you heard and shot to order, as well as all of the beautiful, loving and creative creatures that you trampled like flowers; will haunt you…

Because you will realise that you have no destination, no duty of virtue…
Just a sick parasite heart that was too empty to question evil, but why?… too late to wonder as the foul thing ravens you alive leaving breath in your pupils… and bended buds rise around your frozen inward disgust…

But don’t let me stop you, light another **** cigar, in the hope of easing the brain… or there’s always the loaded gun when you finally feel insane…

In a world that is engulfed in shadow, where I drown in endless darkness,
You are the only star.
Bright against a backdrop of agony, you shine ceaselessly,
And lost in regret, pain, tears, you become my salvation.
Saviour hold my hand and pull me out,
Of the wreckage that is my life.
Know that whilst I stand at the edge of a cliff, blinded by hurt as I mourn
You
Become my sight,
My only light.
And I know you exist only in my mind.
But if insanity means your presence when I close my eyes, forget sanity.
My 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦,
I’m ready to follow as your shadow.

Satan is tired from all the blames;
You're the one that sinned,
Not the evil lonely him.
Don't say you were tempted—
All he does is howl
Like his tortured crowd.
His whispers are loud,
Far from a soft mistress' moans.
He's not the one to boast
Nor does gold glitter in his eyes—
Only flames and sacrifice.
He's the full wrath of evil,
And he has a God to defeat.
He doesn't care if fools like hell's heat.

They cut, crush, cauterize or tie off the eyestalk
of female prawns and shrimp
to stimulate faster reproduction
   usually without anesthesia

I often wonder the complexity of pain felt
when they flail about helplessly
disoriented and dissevered

Do they     rejoice?  

For their life has a gained greater purpose.

Or do they mourn what once was?

For the following generations will be disease-prone and decline
and suffer
and decay.

Nothing we haven't already done to ourselves admittedly.
We might actually be the only organisms
unable to cohabitate with each other.

We seek God to fear our actions
that are preached as sins.
It keeps us good and honest
Yet our empires and civilizations repeatedly fall
generation after generation
as power is granted to our rulers that partake in
Eyestalk Ablation.

For we worship them over God himself.
It's a good thing we were getting tired of God anyways.

"Ill do that" she said

She was so always eager to please

But then quick to anger

"No worries I'll fix it"
She always said

In return she got a warm smile

"I'll babysit for the coming years"she said

"I'll be a listening ear" she said

"What do you need help with " she said

"Have you eaten " she said

"You sick we need a doctor" she said

Then her cup got empty

She couldn't pour anymore

Yet she felt guilty that
she couldn't give,

That she blamed them for it

Her path became thorny

In return she tortured herself

Became her worst nightmare

And then she met him

He promised her love beyond this realm

That she was the purest soul he has met

What she was,still is ,is a torture device designed specifically for her

She should be validated

And he would make her understand that

He became he refill

A therapist she could divulge her secrets to

But she forgot he was human

She forgot her touch was sinister

She tainted him too

And he threw that to her face

And she couldn't blame him,or them  for that

Because there is always more to the story

She might be her author

But what she paints,what she writes

Would never be the full story

Because even she alternates between being a victim in her story

But what stays more constant is she must be the villian in this story

Ive walked alone all through

The silence promising torture

Yet nobody bothered to shadow

And when i did get a shadow

That made the rays less scorching

It became a thing

To condemn my soul

To condemn my company

It Didn't matter

That my smiles were bigger

On some days brighter

Its their own thoughts,
Their own designs

That was most important

Yet its ironic

How clueless

How self absorbed they are

That its my soul

Never theirs

And I've never tried to disarm theirs

i was raised again
back from dead,
unlike a phoenix,
i was a corpse
rotting in grave.

it was to investigate
how it was in heaven, actually...in hell.
"hot", "dark", "is it heinous a lot" ?
was it ''the kingdom of rot'' ?

i sighed at their face,
told 'em it felt like my place;
and not to do it again.

however, as you know;
'history repeats itself'.
so they stabbed me again,
in my chest.

then raised me back from dead
to interrogate me,
yet again.

so the cycle of torture still descends
all in vain...

Beauty of life is with in the texture
The sense of a pain within the mixture
The cries that I lost in my smiles
The experiments that I have done with my life
All my 20s I was looking for an answer
Which I understood was in my head banging like a danger
I know the blessing of a curse and the beauty of the pain
The Islamic review of the daoist in the shame
The *** of the ****** and the addiction to romance
I never ***** anyone but it seems to everyone like that
I didn't know the facts, I was blinded by the pain
And as it seems, no body even cares
All the people I knew looked at me like a beast
Looked at me like a crazy person with a risk
I left everyone not be their curse
They were pushing me to pain to push me wide awake
I have been taught the hard lesson within the hardest way of life
What will be coming next can be even lost
The highway that I'm in or the high way that I might
I'm knocking on heaven's door, will I ever belong?