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the things i want to say are better left unsaid
the words i write today are those which have already been read*

O, thine whip which thou hath
Braided for me
Strikes the same chord
Upon my heart

Sting, O  whip of discontent
Whip of shame
Let me know the tormentous fury
Which art thou name

O, Queen of Morrow
Everlasting Morrow
Bend thine ear
As well as thine heart
To your troubled servant

O, Discordia thy will be done
Shall I pursue this path
Towards the clearing

This broken and shattered beam
Which started as your
Beautiful dream

Thine venom hath infected
Body and mind
Blinded was I in pursuit

Of the prize which shouldn't have been mine
Bb Maria Klara Mar 2015
Love me. Praise me. Fear losing me.
Tell me, if not else, that I am all you see.
Crave me. Want me, forever and always.
Make me feel important in all your able ways.
Seek me in your sleepless hours of night
or moments of bliss or tormentous plight.
Journey the roughest or smoothest of roads
Share with me, always, all of my loads.
For sometimes, I'll be right, and seldom be wrong
But still I want to be your heart's only song.
Despite subtle danger, you must be beside
Me; stay with me, my love, wherever I hide.
Remind me so often, how much me you love
As though I'm a blessing from heaven above

*For you are my blessing from heaven above.
I'll remind you, so often, how much you I love.
I'll stay with you, my love, wherever you hide.
Despite subtle danger, I must be beside,
You, who I want, you are my heart's only song.
Though sometimes you'll be right, or seldom be wrong.
I'll share with you, always, all of your loads;
Journey the roughest and smoothest of roads.
In moments of bliss and tormentous plight,
I seek you even in my hours of night.
You are so important, I show you this way.
I crave you. I want you, forever and always.
I tell you, if not else, you are all I see.
I love you. I praise you. I so fear losing you.
I just got in touch with my inner hopeless romantic. I'm hoping this poem will be the first and last whim of it.
AK Bright Jun 2015
He passed in double yellow
Like he was heading to a fire
Really nothing to you
Yet it provoked your righteous ire

Would it make a difference
If you felt the fiery flames
Watched a simple man's dreams
Consumed in a flippant blaze

Would it make a difference
If you saw his baby trapped inside
Or counted the tormentous days
'til his agony would subside

That waitress was a little rude
Like she wasn't really there
She just found her husband cheating
And she's aware that no one cares

Her heart is shattered inside
But she tries to paint on a smile
The darkness is overcoming
Her future bleak and vile

Could it make a difference
To someone lonely, hurt, and lost
If we measured our words and actions
And we stopped to count the cost
You never know what people may be going through...
Joel Nail Dec 2015
Is it better on fearful feet
To run from my ghastly ghouls
Who maliciously haunt my innocuous mind?
Or to turn and try a fight
In which I will most certainly succumb
To my ever living enemies?

Enemies of the mind,
Their variety endless,
Just as their abilities
To shatter and destroy,
Fragile and unlike alike,
To fragments of former reality.

Is it so noble
To fight demons undefeatable
Rather than choose a simple flight
Away from tormentous anxieties?
A decision quickly made by a courageous and fearful few,
And pondered upon for lifetimes by others,
Will haunt me alike to the fears
Who proposed the question initially.
Anthony Drake Jan 2010
if i look into the eyes of this angel
will she know my name?

or will she turn away
because she knows my shame
and wonder why i even came?

If i touch the hand of this angel
will she feel my pain?

or will she turn away
because she can see the stain
on my heart and know just who's to blame?

if i kiss the lips of this angel
will she erase my hate

or will she turn away
and leave me to burn
inside my childish rage?

and if i ever see this angel
will she still be from heaven

or will she have turned away
and become what i made
the demon that i so crave

her smile
and her hands
and her joy
and her laughter
and her tears
and her grace
all left shattered
and her love
and her wings
and her halo
all gone

and if i leave this angel
will i leave a man?

or will she burn me where i stand
because she knows i am truly ******
and i need a to finally understand
that all i was and all i am
is doomed to never know the plan
in the mind of the great one, the I Am
just to wander on inside this sham?

this sham that is my exsistence; that is my life
that is the reason for so much strife
that cuts the innocent like a knife
that gives to others anger rife

and if i die in this angels arms
will she send me to my eternal death

or will she turn me away
from hells tormentous touch?
of this i truly pray

yet something tells me that all she is
is my souls desperate wish to stay away
from the judgement that will come one day
and she'll have nothing left for her to say
except you have gone too far astray
and now all of your yesterday
will make your tomorrow never after today
Dante Leto Nov 2019
My footsteps this day make no sound
As I walk these halls unhallowed.
Like a shade passing through corporeal bounds,
Hollow, holding happiness shallow.
Day after day I'm fading away
As my masquerade is breaking.
Frustration and fury, foreboding, that for me
Forever humanity's faking.

I stand amongst the normal and living
Their faces so hopeless, so broken.
Some may be friends, others have enemies
But for me no single one has spoken.
This place has turned strange, it's greying,
Decaying, my bane begets this Perdition.
The stench of a tomb from the rot that consumes
The doomed place ****** to a fission.

It has been my misfortune in which I delight
I'm accursed to blacken the sun,
To bring the ruin of all by devouring the light.
Now again has this cycle begun;
Darkness, disaster to dastardly droves
Debauched by a daemoniac foe
Who dissembles man to hide diabolic designs,
For what man dares brave the unknown?

I walk into the abyssal gloom
Of foetid and harrowing decadence.
The webwork of veins that trace every room
Betray the presence of an Asmodeus essence.
Is it me? Could it be that I've become so vile
That merely my presence defiles?
The pariah, it seems, is all I can be
In so sweetly tormentous a style.

It happens that here in my darkest hour
When I feel the facade is fractured
I see the bright purest light that breaks through the dour
Dark leading me to my attractor.
An angel I wonder, or maybe someone sent for
Me to cause me to blunder?
Perhaps today her angelic array
Was displayed for her spell I'd go under.

My hunger subsides in those crystalline eyes,
In their glow my bloodlust turns calm.
A warmth I feel, emotions belike,
Yes, foreign to me, I have qualm.
She is purity, surely there's a pulling toward me
Enduring my stubborn eschewal.
No tragedy to speak of, her majesty must be of
A flawless aethereal jewel.

How did I come into this sudden infatuation?
Enticed by the taunt of her lure,
Her perfection, it stalls me, indescribable exaltation,
Yet somehow this morbid mind's torn.
It's confounding, she's sounding profoundly arousing
And drowning my sense in her charm.
I love it, I hate it, that this consecrated
Divinity isn't met without harm.

How damnably refreshing my ambrosial dream
Whose glow can subvert the most heinous!
Her light can reveal worlds beyond what is seen
And the shadow I cast will sustain us.
A Devil, an Angel, together disdainful
In the eyes of the fools that surround me.
But I glimpse in that shadow a horror I now know
To mean that my Angel has bound me.

The light that shines forth casts a most vivid shade
Of this man-shaped form that I am.
But to my limbs were attached something of linear shape,
Like strings on a marionette.
What could this mean? Could it possibly be
Something I've been too smitten to see?
I've been such a fool to be blind to the truth:
My Angel is a Demon like me!

At this revelation I turn to the shrewd Enchantress
Who has been manipulating me from the start.
No shame, no fear, only with the most chilling deftness
Does she command the strings of this heart.
Of all the rotted, defiled, insidious, hideous
Things that dwell in my darkness,
Nothing more evil than this tentacled being
Can be conceived of in the depths of Tartarus!

Sensual, seductive, psuedo-seraphic shrew!
I'm enslaved by the lust she engenders.
Repeatedly beguiled by the lies that she used,
Still to those eyes I surrender.
The sinister spirit that taints all that's near it
Is an evil the both of us share.
She chose a prey who cannot be slain.
The challenge is an alluring snare.

As my Angel now dawns a horrific appearance
My obsession burns ever indomitably.
Apocalyptic, unquenchable, bloodbathed coherence,
Nefarious and haunting so ominously.
Darkness is ours! Eldritch bloodthirsty fiends:
Angel of Death and Devil.

The masks are peeled away, we're free
To cleave and bleed the world and revel!
RaRa Apr 2019
My scars tell a story
A much more permanent memory
Left by life's indelible mark
Mostly trauma's hallmark
Reminding me that my tormentous past was real
That I had wounds even if they eventually healed

Some will fade, but most will persist
And those are the ones that will teach a lesson
A reminder that they will always show where I've been but never dictate where I'm going
A promise that ultimately something positive comes out from the broken
Although the history behind it is pitiful
The future holds something much more beautiful

49 stitches, desensitised and disturbingly serpentine
13 inches of a rugged and raised line
So macabre you can't look without flinching
But I have come to gaze upon it without cringing
My scars may not look appealing
But are still a sign of healing
They say I took a hit but I survived
They are but evidence of the life I lived

The strongest and best of people have scars
So I'm glad my wounds and stitches left a scar
So like jewellery I show off my skin which has been marred
For everyone to see, like the scars of the universe; the stars
And maybe it will teach others that they can also heal
No matter the injuries they suffered, it doesn't have to be their Achilles heel.

R. Q.
"Scars are tattoos with better stories." - Unknown.
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
A scar is nature's golden repair - R. Q.
Inkveined Jan 2017
Once upon a time

There was a very young girl with ridiculously long hair, she believed it was her best physical trait.

She spent all her time in a room where she could hear the whole world going about their business and living their lives.

Often, she wondered, what it would be like to not be confined to this small space.

She used to daydream as she looked out the window, it was overlooking a garden with many flowers in it.

Daydreaming about what it would be like to be normal. About what it would be like to be able to get close to the plants.

But one day, she decided, it was too painful to daydream about these things. Too tormentous to be able to see and hear all the beauty she was so tantalizing close to, and yet never be able to take part in it.

So she closed the curtains, and the sun no longer shone through the window. No more did she sit there wishing that humanity and herself weren't separated by brick and glass.

Instead, she began to get used to the shadows. Telling herself that it was, after all, for the best. No longer allowing herself to even dream that she would ever be more than she was.

Just a girl that was forgotten.

But she grew older.

Older, and... She began to understand, that she was only as trapped as she allowed herself to be.

The sunshine had been looking for her,  and finally, she opened the curtains again.

Once again, she dared to dream...

But she wandered into a nightmare, and everything that she had never learned she was suddenly forced to.

All that naivette turned into pain, and she began to wonder why it had ever seemed so bad, to be locked away from everything.
You weren't expecting a happy ending were you? This is "twisted fairytales".
Lemona Nov 2019
"You'll never be good enough"
"Your life is a waste"
"You're a failure"
"You'll never be worthy"
"You'll never achieve anything"

The voices in my head
That I must contend with every waking moment
Until I lay down to sleep.
At which point I'm convinced
That death is better than life
For with death,
Comes rest from these tormentous demons
Cecelia Dec 2020
Riddled with the continuous cycle of the same terrorizing thing. My soul has been played continuously like a fiddle and I am unsure how to break this cycle. I know I can, but when you are riddled with a continuum of repeated tormentous events, it makes you weak… so weak you can’t help but run into the next riddle of pain….
December 3 2020
-cc
Tyler Mar 2022
it'll all be over some day
like it is to me
but like it'll be for you.
the two worlds seem to swing
and dance through eachother
in my mind.
a wonderous world of
love-stricken wickedness.
a heat of battle in the
embrace of love,
all will be gone
and you left but
a tormentous fallen villian.
embrace the loss.
then fight to remember
the dead and dying.
along with them,
grant your own
flavor of holy peace.

— The End —