Dark Delusions -
In shadows deep, where nightmares dwell,
A psychopath's mind, a twisted spell,
He knows the truth, that murder's vile,
Yet revels in blood, with a wicked smile.
A dance of death, a symphony of dread,
As he takes a life, the victim bled,
He feels a thrill, a sick delight,
As he revels in the chaos of the night.
But deep inside, a gnawing need,
To feel the guilt, to plant the seed,
Of remorse, a pang so sharp,
But his twisted soul remains unmarred.
He sheds tears, a well-rehearsed show,
For the world to see, a twisted tableau,
But there's no guilt, no pang of sorrow,
Instead, he feels proud, in the morrow.
He's a paradox, a twisted riddle,
A psychopath's mind, a dark enigma's fiddle,
For he knows he's evil, a wicked fate,
Yet takes pleasure in a life he desecrates.
On one hand, he feels blue, a somber hue,
For his psychopathic nature, so askew,
A curse he bears, a burden heavy,
But on the other hand, he's proud and savvy.
He revels in the power, the dominance gained,
As life ebbs away, his dark soul sustained,
He's the puppeteer, pulling the strings,
Of life and death, such twisted things.
He's delusional, lost in his own mind,
Confused and twisted, a maze so blind,
Why did he kill his once-saved friend?
He asks himself, his thoughts to bend.
He justifies, with twisted lies,
Blaming his friend, with wicked ties,
It was his friend who provoked his wrath,
Justifying his actions along this path.
He's lost in a labyrinth, of his own making,
A web of deception, constantly shaping,
A reality warped, a twisted view,
As he justifies the evil he continues to pursue.
But now his friend lies cold and still,
His skull bleeding, a twisted thrill,
And in that moment, a pang of remorse,
A fleeting feeling, a wicked discourse.
He feels bad, but not for the deed,
But for the mess, the blood, the need,
To cover his tracks, to hide the stains,
Of his dark desires, his twisted gains.
He's trapped in a cycle, a never-ending game,
Of dark delusions, a mind in flame,
He knows he's evil, but takes delight,
In the power he holds, the terror heincites.
So, he revels in the darkness, the twisted thrill,
As he takes lives, with wicked skill,
For a psychopath's mind, a twisted maze,
A dance of death, in a wicked daze.
And as he walks the shadows deep,
He knows the truth, a secret to keep,
That he's a monster, a dark aberration,
Lost in his own twisted hallucination.
I hate you -
Oh, how I abhor you,
For the way you bring forth a smile sotrue,
And how those sugary words from you dothflow,
I resent how my heart starts to glow.
You make me feel vulnerable, feeble and frail,
And how you elicit that carefree laugh, so unveiled,
I despise how you get under my skin,
And how you toy with my emotions with your grin.
Your incessant annoyance, I cannot stand,
And how you never cease to flirt, so grand,
I detest you, oh so much,
But alas, I am but falling at your touch.
My heart, a slave to your every move,
I cannot stop the feelings, I cannot disprove,
I am succumbing to your charm and grace,
Oh, how I wish to flee from this embrace.
You have me entangled in a web,
A trap of emotions that I cannot help but dread,
I hate you, I hate you, this I know,
But I cannot seem to break free from this flow.
Your gaze upon me, a piercing dart,
Your voice, a symphony that plays in my heart,
I loathe how I have fallen so deep,
Please, oh please, help me to weep.
For the pain that comes with this adoration,
A love that is one-sided, a cruel affliction,
I hate you, I hate you, this I declare,
But deep within, I know the truth is rare.
For I cannot help but yearn for your touch,
To feel your embrace, oh how much,
I am but a fool, lost in this game,
A love that is one-sided, and brings me only pain.
I hate you, I hate you, this I avow,
But my heart is no longer under my control now,
I am falling, and cannot break free,
Oh, how I wish you could see.
The heartbreak that comes with this love,
A pain that feels as if it comes from above,
I hate you, I hate you, this I know,
But my heart, it refuses to let you go.
Ayesha Bali, synonymous with literary brilliance among her friends, has a remarkable track record of national and international writing awards. Residing in Vadodara, India, her literary journey began at seven, primarily focusing on crafting poems that later became her trademark. Her rhymes effortlessly convey profound emotions, weaving elegant tapestries of meaning that resonate with readers. Ayesha infuses her personal essence into every piece, making her work relatable and deeply moving. At just fourteen, she recognizes the long journey ahead, dedicated to daily improvement and skill refinement. Her unwavering commitment to growth and mastery assures that her literary future will reach even greater heights.