Horror Poem: TORTURED

A young woman sits alone in a dark room,
bound by her own misery to an old worn tattered chair.
She sulks silently, writhing in her own torture
by disturbing memories of long ago…

Delirious, she can’t seem to remember
how she reached the bottom of these stairs,
or why she is now bound to the old worn tattered chair.

Starved and lifeless, she slouches
cold blue eyes stare straight above to a
leaking cracked ceiling that creates puddles of
old dusty water on the wooden creaky floor.

Once golden blonde beautiful hair,
now strings of knots hanging
around a tear-stained dirty face.

Arms hang lazily from her bruised and scraped shoulders
that support a once-new black cocktail dress,
that now is torn and frayed.

Small short breaths still escape
the lipstick stained lips of the
troubled woman,
but life that once existed
has been depleted
as seen by the cold blue eyes
that continue to star above to the old
leaky ceiling.

At some point,
she escaped to find peace,
but her own horrid thoughts
locked her up as a prisoner,
which bound her to the old tattered chair.

The countless seconds she sat, turned into minutes,
which then grew into lonely hours,
that finally became lost forgotten days.

Torturous memories continue to play
through the woman’s wounded mind.
Demonic like hands reaching out for her soul,
wrapping like old rope around her body,
bounding her with fear.

Screams of agony escaping her mouth,
for nobody to hear but her
and the body behind the demonic hands.

Those long scraggly hairy arms that were attached to the demonic hands
hung like a picture on a wall in her mind.
They gripped her soul and all that was good,
taking away her glitz and sparkle,
leaving it all behind.

And now,
all that is left,
is a woman,
owner of a tortured soul
and lifeless blue eyes
that continue to stare at a cracked old ceiling,
bounded to a worn tattered chair.

-Ariana R. Cherry 2014

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