literature

Poetry

Deviation Actions

Published: Feb 16, 2012

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Literature Text

I remember when I could read and write. When everything was for fun, back when we were soft and light, and I could rhyme. We'd spend casual conversations and beautiful meaningless moments with each other. And it was nice.

Then they claimed you. Made you ugly. Tortures you into meaning and robbed me of mine. You became someone I no longer recognized, no longer loved nor enjoyed. They tortured you into shapes I didn't know, and showed me another side of you which I hated.

It wasn't just you they hurt. They took my joy and then, without realizing, tortured me too. I could no longer bare to write, I barely knew how to anymore.

But I tortured you also. They made me, monitored be, told me what to do, how to fit in, how to be right. And when I tortured the way they liked, I was rewarded. And as I became a better torturer, I lost that piece of happiness we shared.

And then I was free. But I cared no longer to read anymore, because I would begin to torture once more.