Confession
Depressed about life’s direction
I grieve for what never happened . I’ve been banished to far off exile. Ejected from society, rejected and evicted. Ostracized and outlawed. To the outskirts of this wasteland. The barren pressures of the outback. Parched and thirsty. Deported and discarded. Tested for omittion. Edited for excommunication. Transported to the edge of fiction. Demented and fabricated. This visionary only sees failure. Hypothetical assumptions. Storybook myths and biblical psalms. Legendary notions and abnormal endeavors. The phantom illusion. The tundra of hallucination. A figment of your imagination. My fairytale of apparitions. The ultimate deception. A fool’s paradise. A see-through specter. This life is fragile. A frail utopia. A disgrace. Vague and pensive. I’m going down the rabbit hole. To where the mad all dwell. I’m late for a very important date. To embrace the darkness. To a wonderland I’ve never known
About the Creator
Anna Torres
I’m a 37-year old mother. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
Keep reading
More stories from Anna Torres and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Scourge of God
You punctured too many holes into my heart. I had to carry it in my arms like a sieve. I had to go numb worse than novocaine to preserve myself. I was forced to realize that we had simply run out of time. A prison made to keep us together out of nostalgia. I had my illusions but you completely shattered them. You had to prove you could do better than me. But loyalty cannot be bought, it can only be given. What drove us together was a spark that quickly dwindled. We called it love but settling resembles hope too much. You were too far away even when you were right beside me. I didn't want you closer, I wanted you to be something you could never be. You weren't searching for the truth like I was, you just wanted to cover up your mishaps. You couldn't fill the holes you created so you found a clean slate instead. The chasm in between just caused more space to ignore. You're no longer any of my concern. You told your lies in order to survive. I had to levitate myself in order to burn. Two worlds divided in order for us to finally die. I don't know when but this lesson has got to be learned. You were the salt in the wound I didn't think I deserved. You tried to take credit for all the accomplishments I knew I would earn. This pain isn't mine anymore, now it's your turn
By Anna Torres13 days ago in Poets
Ode to Water
In the realm of the flowing streams, where the rivers dance and the oceans sing, there lies a world of wonder a world of water, vast and boundless, where the ebb and flow of the tides mark the rhythm of life itself. And in this world of water, there exists a poet a seeker of truth and beauty, whose words paint pictures of the sea and sky, of rain and rivers, of the ever-changing landscape of the liquid realm.
By Michael smithabout 8 hours ago in Poets
The Ugliest Building
Mark Twain called the building I work in, “The ugliest building in America.” I agree. The Dwight D. Eisenhower Executive Office Building isn’t the largest in Washington, D.C., but its imposing façade makes it feel like it is. I work for the Office of E-Government and Information Technology. I have a satellite office in the bowels of this monstrosity. Working in this building gives us quick access to both the President and Vice-President because they also have offices here. This access may be why I’m in this situation, or maybe it’s the project I’m assigned to, or both.
By Mark Gagnon6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.