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TORMENT

There is a broken window at the front of my abode. It leads the way into my broken house, symbolic of the broken life that I have lead.

There are ants in my front yard, welcoming me home to all the other demons that have plagued me for years. Those lifetime ghosts, that no earthly intervention can get rid of, or defeat.

There is a darkness in my closet, and I cannot see my way to choose the colorfulness of my clothes. Thus is my personality, always groping for the light in the blackness of depression.

There is a rip in my carpet, showing the bare, blank , cold wood . I see it as the comfort humans put on reality to try to keep the warmth in, and the world, soft, when indeed, it is neither.

There is a hole in my wall. I feel it matches the one in my soul, where my innocense was torn, and ugly truth was unearthed.

I contemplate burning down my house, fanning the flames, rejoicing in its demise, and then turning my rejection on my own temple, the one that I have neglected for years, the torment that is me.

Learn more about this author, Elise Warren.
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