The Torture of The Mind

This is not really poetry, but I thought it deserved to be here rather than at my regular blog.

-----------------------------------


My mind is a chamber - a chamber of death and torture. Sometimes it seems that the torture gets too much for me to endure. The pain is too much, make ist stop! I feel the blood run down, and I welcome death. But death never comes! My soul is broken; I can no longer go on. Let me end it now! Nobody sees my pain, and no-one will ever see it. But I'm kept alive by an invisible force. It is some unseen captor that gains joy from my suffering. It will never let me taste the sweet bread of death. I feel the soft arms of death, ready to embrace me. But each time I start to feel his hands enveloping me, my captor brings me back to the cruel world of life.

I have given up trying to survive. There is nothing of me left to revive. I try to end it all, but every time, my torturer keeps the blood flowing through my veins. I cut them, but the blood keeps flowing. It flows down my arm, but it never stops. I wish the end would come! But I know my tormentor would not allow it. Reletlessly he sends the gas that would burn my lungs. Unedingly he turns my devices against me.

This is my last attempt. I will perish or forever be tormented by my unseen foe. I plunge the sharpened knife into my arm, sending rivulets of blood down to the floor, staining it with the red life-giving fluid. My other arm feels the blade pierce my skin, and the redness on the floor continues to grow. Into my chest I then plunge the knife, and with each strained breath, I hope it will be the last. Falling to the floor, I feel the life flow freely out of me. The sticky solution on the floor now covers my body, and I feel death standing, ready to embrace me for eternity. My light fades and death takes me in its arms. My soul is finally at peace.