I Remember The Torture Room

i remember the torture room
i thought at first
it is hell where hot fires
and forks
hurt my skin and pierce
the flesh of my body

i imagine it
to be this oven
of cinders where
devils with tails
and horns
frighten me

it isn't

the torture room
in fact
is in the big house
where people
come and do not
talk
where we
have no
convergence
of the minds

where
she loves him
but he loves
another

where wives
hate
and batter
their husbands

where husbands
too
slap their wives
and abandon
them
for another

where children
have no
respect
for parents

and where
parents
do not mind
their children

where governments
run the state
for their
own personal
profit

where people
sell their
votes

where there is no care
and love
where hope cannot
thrive

where there is
indifference
violence
and perpetual
hatred and
always for
retaliation and
revenge

it is indeed
a beautiful house
an earth filled
with colors

but those
who live here
have converted
this

into a torture room

we, now live
in the room
that we deserve

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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