Torture me slowly, love, with your twisted desires,
Let darkness consume us, ignite infernal fires,
Devour me whole, as my soul writhes in pain,
For in agony's embrace, I find my disdain.
Your whip, a cruel instrument upon my pallid skin,
Each lash, a reminder of the darkness within,
Make me one with nothingness, with despair,
As morning light fades, leaving only despair.
The mockingbirds' song, a mockery of joy,
A haunting melody, devoid of any ploy,
How bitter it is, to see such beauty marred,
In the twisted reflection of your soul, scarred.
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Echoes of despair: Poems from the Abyss
PuisiPhysical copy soon in amazon Echoes of Despair: Poems from the Abyss is a collection of deeply introspective and haunting poems that delve into the depths of human suffering, exploring themes of darkness, despair, pain, and the struggle for redempti...
