Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
What is life it is very difficult to understand
For some thorny path for others rosy garland
For some it is luxury for others castle on sand
Idiosyncrasies never vanish but go hand in hand

There are very many who aspire for loaf of bread
Many do not get coffin even if are mercilessly dead
Valiant are debarred and just by jackals they are led
With blood of innocent people grow the roses in red

A revolution is needed to strike balance on the earth
All are equal no one is low or high by status of birth
If one search for real clean hearts there is but no dearth
All are God made with dignity honor style and worth

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
We use to call sweet torture
the way we'd tease each others bodies
until the early hours of the morning

but now for me, sweet torture is
how vividly I still remember
everything about you I'm longing to forget.
GaryFairy May 2016
the dark circles under my eyes
are the windows to my soul
i drop to my knees and cry to the sky
Lord help me out of this hole

i try fighting my own demise
starting to lose all control
when God denies my desperate cries
i only fall further below
pray for me
Roo May 2016
Dear David,

You tore your way through my life, leaving a devastation known only to a few. When you were done, you picked at my intimacies until I had nobody left. But I'm no longer afraid of the big bad wolf. This is my revenge.

1. I'd balance a gas light above your head and set it alight. When you go running to your friends about my torture they'd smell an unconfrontable unease that would turn them away.
2. I'd cut out your tongue and push my fist down your throat, my fingers indulging in the gushing scarlet, invading your warm insides until your breathing is cut off and I reach your voice box.
3. I'd yank it out, celebrating in your juices that run down my arm. Now, when you turn to your dearest, they will only see the fear in your eyes when they mention my name.
4. I'd carve lost trenches into your arms so that the reminder of our war could never be forgotten. There's a rare kind of memory that makes you ache for it to leave.
5. I'd etch the word 'love' onto the back of your throat and watch you choke on it. I'd hope that every time this happened, you would be reminded of me and the quirky ways I showed my affection.
6. I'd leave you squirming in pain for days on end, my back turned in silence as the shackles slowly embrace your body.
7. I'd decide that you had been punished enough and nurse you back into health, stitching your tongue back on in zig zagged attempts to apologise.
8. The next day, I'd slowly unpick the shallow stitches and start the whole process again.
9. I'd blame you for my actions. 'Baby it's your fault you make me do these things, you're just too irresistible ' I'd whisper seductively to you as my knife slips down to your groin.
10. I'd render you useless to the rest of the world, steal your thoughts with my kiss and blow them into the wind. The altered version of them would reach our friends before your voice did. The silence that echoed only added to the rumours.
11. I'd slip my knife sexily between your skin, opening up a hole so that your entire vulnerability would be glowing.
12. I'd empty the entirety of your guts onto the floor and smile as the gas light falls on to your slumpened body.  A fire will erupt over it, burning the last shreds of hope as your lips will begin to melt. Gone are the mechanisms that may have led them to believe.
13. That night, I'd bathe in your guts, ******* over the feeling of power as your burnt corpse smoked nearby.
Dear David,
I hope you some day come across this poem and finally realise the entirety that you held over me.
In your grasp forever,
Rosie.
and when i finally decided to let you go
you showed me the one thing
that you said was never a lie
and that was behind all the black and white
you hid more than the truth
but how you knew how to break me down
and torture me from the inside out
K R W Jan 2016
You broke my bones until there was nothing left to me.
You've taken everything else,
Why not my soul?

K R W
Mary Alexander Apr 2016
I am being tortured by choice.
I have screamed until not even the slightest whimper can escape my lips.
And I lie there silent, telling myself
That it's fine.
I want this.
Don't I?
I shake there violently
Waiting for some reprieve,
While knowing all the while that it will never come.
I sit there, shivering.
Surrounded by unwanted emotions and
Waiting patiently for the next blow against my pale, fragile spine.
darktowers Apr 2016
Go head make your move
All the parts are in place
I will not bow
I will not break
You can go for one's I love
But my heart
Is to cold to break
My death will bring me joy
For you can not toy
with me anymore
Yanamari Apr 2016
The roots of trust are entwined in a soil of dependence.
The roots depend on the strength and warmth of the soil to provide nourishment.
Without dependence, trust begins to shrivel and fade,
it's roots slipping out of the loosened hold of the soil,
The plant falling,
lying alone in the cold shadows of the sun's rays.

To try to place it's roots back into soil can decay the plant further,
To try to hold up the plant without soil whilst being surrounded by nourished plants is even greater torture.
Almost any attempt is proven futile.

The only attempt one may make to have the plant to stand again is to find a very special soil.
One that meets the needs of the plants.
Soil that is willing to attend to the plant whenever the plant requires it,
to make sure trust doesn't wither in confusion,
to make sure that trust...
that trust doesn't suffer one time more.
haylee beckim Apr 2016
i'd continue to torture myself for what i think is love
whatever it takes to keep you here
Next page