✒️ Torture, and the Beginning of Something Deeper
There are poems that carry fire.
There are poems that carry mirrors.
And then—there are poems that carry wounds.
Torture is not a poem I wrote to impress anyone.
It is not refined for elegance.
It is not adorned for applause.
It was forged in a moment when I was breaking.
And by writing it, I did not break—I bled, I stood, I healed.
This poem is not about physical torment.
It is about the unseen pain,
the weight of despair that makes breath feel like betrayal,
and silence feel louder than any scream.
But something happened—something monumental.
When I finished writing it, I realized:
Poetry is not only what saves me.
It can save others too.
Not with slogans.
Not with vague verses meant for social media scrolling.
But with real poetry.
With structure, soul, and sacred struggle.
With Torture, I began to open a door.
Not just to a new poem.
But to a new path.
A path where I no longer write at people,
but with them, for them—
for those who are trying to make sense of their own shadows.
I’ve spent years writing with elegance, precision, and power.
And I will not abandon that.
But from now on, I will also write with a hand outstretched
to those who are drowning.
Because I know what the tide feels like.
This is the beginning of something deeper.
And if you are reading this—
perhaps it’s the beginning of something for you too.
Let me show you how a poem can heal.
Not by pretending,
but by revealing.
Read the full poem by – Al Konda
The Mythical Poet