Night Tormentor

It's dark. It's dark again. This dark is home. The home is not my place of rest. This home is my nightmare. I close my eyes to rest but my eyes want to rest in the arms of a protector.

I found the arms of a tormentor. Now I lie awake. And rest is the furthest thing from what the arms grant me. I wander the realm of night from one despair to another. No Angels to comfort me. No deity to forgive me. Not even a demon to punish me. For my torment is isolation.

In the eyes of She my wounds are self-inflicted. From the words of her kin my torment is my desire. In the eyes of the world my depression is written about daily. But no soul takes heed.

It's easy to disregard the torment that I write about. It is easy to turn your back because you have no understanding. It is easy to claim compassion when you do nothing. It is easy to just not read about it. My tormentor has no fear of an uprising. No one rises up to defend what they refuse to see.

So tonight I lie in the arms of my tormentor. I may not smile, but I am in my dark home.