Torture comes in many forms to a person,
But always in pain of varying versions.
It is inflicted with intent on some sort of acquiesce, bent on a surrender.
And no matter how we make it through,
no matter how much we survive,
if we remain firm or some part of us dies,
we do not escape the memory.
The tortured are haunted, relentlessly,
either for the white flag
forced out of our voices,
or the thought of finding sweet release
at giving in.
It is almost as if the taunting of the enemy
will always haunt us,
if we live we never escape,
and if we die...well who knows
what comes after death.
All men do strange things.
Some actions are unfathomable,
pulled from the lowest pits of hell
and enforced with a divine strength
that seems almost unstoppable.
We question how, we condemn,
and are satisfied with whatever answer we provide to quell our fear.
Anything to make them look less human
and a little more alien than us.
But we do not question why.
A man's deeds may be vile
but there is always a reason they chose.
And perhaps the simplest
most profound reason,
the reason beneath all other reasons
is that tortured men, if they live,
do everything to forget that they are haunted.
Make noise, horrible noises,
to drown out the chaos of the voices that never leave them be.
The will wring it from necks of others
if they have to,
squeeze it from the veins of women,
beat it from the faces of men,
steal it from the laughter of children.
If it is louder than their demons
they will take it.
And so haunted men
become tortures in their own right,
all because they cannot survive the chaos night.
Chaos breeds more chaos,
they make their own to forget their ghosts.
Torture visits everyman and harbors different faces.
SK
