Do not mistake my calm demeanor
for calmness of mind
My body has chosen to turn a blind eye
To the torments I feel on the inside.
My torture chamber consisted not
Of whips, chains and Lords.
But comprised instead of His beautiful words,
Which now behave as swords.
Scaled and sliced ten times over
Enough to last a lifetime
Paused a while to only start over
In cold blood from morning to nigh.
There’s no redemption from this hell created
Hell hounds never leave my side
There is no rest or respite for the wicked
When they make a deal by the river Styx.
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Comments about this poem (Torture Chamber by Abhilaasha Singh )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Christina Georgina Rossetti
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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