Anna Torres
Bio
I’m a 37-year old mother. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
Stories (114/0)
Neanderthal
A conquest between apes and civilized man leads to this disaster of a conquered wasteland. The master planner I know never gives only takes. Behold Mother Nature’s greatest mistake! Evolution errors have resulted in corrupted schemes. From caveman to cosmonaut, I can’t wait for all of us to leave. Rustic tales of wise old mutations. I don’t mourn for the future, I have no lamentations. A winter of radioactive rain. I’ve wasted my summers trying to become insane. A brave new world lies at my feet. I took it from those dying in defeat. Will someone please press the big Red button? Not to detonate but to reset the rising sun. A primate made out of spineless admiration. How could we even concede of such an abomination? This planet held such potential. And we’ve gone down in ruins, despite of it all. A reality melted into the stratosphere. There’s no future for those still stranded out here. A failed reconstruction. After one too many attempts, we have created our own destruction. Hatred borne out of ignorance. Darwinism has become the path to bliss
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
Sisyphean
A crisis of faith appears on the horizon. There’s no other way to go, there is none. A scepter of gullibility rivals a god-given right to punish those beneath me. I’ve sent them to hell for opening their mouths. Their abominations were atrocious so they descended south. Demonic inferiority, a blessing from my tongue justifies my means. Relinquished breaths alter a halo of corrupted death. Prayers venture above but I can’t hear them, they’re not enough. Olympians have their psychopaths but their heroes have split them in half. We cannot restore the dawn nor resurrect our beloved Babylon. You look up to the skies with false hope that your idols will rescue you and the entire globe. There is no kryptonite to offer you a saving grace from plight. They await the return of their previous savior. They don’t know they’ve since fallen out of favor. Haunted by vengeful ghosts. Weaponized against those you love most. Blood is a valuable commodity where burned effigies give rise to criminality. Outlaws of history beg for deliverance from past treacheries. Who holds sway over your will? Who has the power to bend a God’s wrath? A righteous holy mercy that sits where the devil once sat. Who decides what to glorify and what to condemn? They can’t stay innocent or ignorance will find them. You suffer in silence but ask for pity and relief. I cannot give you what you seek.
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
Imposter syndrome
You are not me. There are too many sides to a doppelgänger. An android made to blend in. Who will finish the race with me in last place? Imposter, you have no free will. You have absorbed all of my energy. What makes the spirit weak and the flesh willing? What makes the mask fit so perfectly? A gun is a prop in this game we play. Hide and seek where I run and you take aim. The womb lies bleeding from the wounds you inflict. A parasite borne from artificial clay. Why would you mutilate yourself when you’ve got me? I’ve got my chainsaw and you have your deception. I can’t forgive you for your sins because you aren’t human anyways. You are a charlatan in disguise. You prey on mercy and compassion but I have none. A fiction made of fairy tales and lies. A nuclear war with a machine made of hellfire. I can’t unplug you, I can’t disconnect you. You can’t assimilate omniscience. A function of submission. A replica of human body parts but you can’t copycat me. You terminate to create. Electrical impulses but you can’t induce consciousness. What can kill that cannot be killed? I’ve been haunted by dreams of judgement. We cannot escape our fates. You fraud, you imperfect delusion. A psycho with nothing but a metal skeleton to bury. You got me doubting my own existence. A mechanism of impersonation, an infiltration of destruction. You masquerade as my bluff but you cannot imitate me. You cannot get rid of me. This ruse, this holocaust is my undoing. I’ve manipulated my own humanity. Maybe your sentience won’t be fulfilled. Maybe my resistance isn’t real. Maybe this fire will cleanse us all. We cannot go on and keep playing this game
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
Monarch
We have such a charismatic leader. One is always right and never wrong. Conceded in defeat, I welcome you with open arms. I aspire to be at your level. Untouchable, such a fearless commander. I acquiesced and capitulated and have gone under. A wormhole of submission. A surrender of all my senses. Oh heroic captain, your captives all lost all their defenses. Assimilation isn’t my strongest suit. Bowing down to your fascist throne. Stripped away of all my power. The top is lonely but you’re never alone. My dark overlord, ruler of all time. You control and hypnotize your followers. You and your death eaters will simply devour us. Progressive antebellum ways, you know what’s best for all of us. Loyal to an unforgiving ruler, history may never forgive us. Like a marionette on strings, you dance around us like you’re a king. We are mistresses for your fickleness. I don’t owe you a damn thing. We surrender like rats to a piper resembling a ringleader. This isn’t your circus. You are not superior. We are not lambs without a shepard. You’re like a concussion to the head. Death follows you like a beacon. I’m choking on the lies I’ve been fed. You play the role of a sadist. I’m under some kind of wicked spell. We fold under your whims. We call home these damp and dirty cells. A spark of divinity. We are your legions of doom. Worshipping your grand design, allegiance to death will arrive soon. We have been judged. We have been brought to the gallows. Your dominion will forever reign. We will die, if you allow us.
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
False prophets
I’ve felt your wrath. I’ve felt your warmth. I’ve dealt with your toxicity and all your complications. I want a miracle, some kind of divine intervention. One where you’re stable enough to heal all my afflictions. The truth will burn. You’re not untouchable. I release you from your mundane bonds and the lies connected to me. I waited for a confession. I waited for a century. But instead you destroyed my faith. It took a blind woman to see. I will not be healed by you. There’s nothing you can fix. You can’t make me a martyr. I can’t love you for an eternity. Our brilliance shown no mercy. We had our time together. Our time is running out and it’s killing me. We took our vows. We had our anniversaries. What we built got washed away. And now I have my doubts. You’re a lying hoax. Placebos are a Hail Mary. I watched you plunge into hell and struggle to get out. I sought the cure. I’ve fought your demons and failures. I’ve crucified your wounds and heard your trumpets sound. My soul is immaculate or so I heard. I can’t be corrupted anymore. No longer will I be bound. Your relapses are all yours. My words fell on deaf ears. I can’t serve a master and be enslaved anymore. Sickness is ugly. Mistakes can be averted. The blood we share reincarnates us and I hope we are reborn
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets