Tales of Torment: Stories From An Honest Library

these tales of torment,

are telltale signs, of exactly what they tell‐

signs that do not lie

and if i am not to lie either, then‐

well, i would say that the world will now know what the signs are, but‐

it's not like they haven't always been there...

no one's looking,

no one is wondering where those that were lost, and never found,

found themselves,

the faces of the faceless, lost in a game of hide and seek-

they cannot be forgotten,

allowing room for more to go missing.

if i don't write about them, then‐

who will?...

and...

if i am to be as honest as my library, then‐

what undisguised speech will leave my mouth might surprise‐

what ears aren't ready,

to hear all that this "gift" of life has given and taken from me.

belief, from my heart,

and the color from my eyes-

in place of peace, i've been given void's company‐

we are all to familiar with each other,

on a first name basis, it clings to me like no other‐

and in every place of residence, love has left,

slumber's absence is evident-

desire has become, to me, a foe,

hoisting over my head peace and hope,

turning existence into a source of dread-

if i am to be just as honest as my library, then‐

please, forgive my unfiltered speech, as‐

i'd rather perish than continue in this peril desire keeps me in, but‐

despite it's never ceasing, teasing‐

for some reason,

i persist in whatever it's purpose is.

through every season, and to this day, i question‐

why i have only to come to contentment under compulsion‐

and how much longer must this torment last for?

how many more nights?

certainly quietude can't be to much to ask for... ‐right?

but, if i am not to lie,

i wouldn't hesitate, to take this from someone else,

if it were not me, i'd not think twice to place it over myself‐

if it meant changing a face, or saving a heart‐

i'd call this, my "part"

that is, if i had the power to‐

because, if i can't save myself,

how could i anyone else?

what will the books on my shelf have to offer?

some, diaries of war,

and some, raging streams of consciousness,

with an incendiary-like vocabulary-

but be what they are, the stories in my library,

simply cannot be kept to myself‐

that is, if i am to be as honest as my library is itself.

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Thank You For Reading!!!

I hope you enjoyed it, here are some other similar stories of mine. :)