Their filthy begging eyes... Begging for mercy.

Damn it! They don’t have the right to live. Rapists don’t have the right to live.

I’ve learnt it the hard way... And harder still when I stand in front of this witness box.. A lawyer engaged to fight for the victim. A rape victim, to be particular.

How the hell do these rapists petition for bail?? Looking up through fringed hair or maybe crew cut.. The beasts want MERCY. And I’m not going to give them that.

The fucking rapist sniffs, nods a little and softly cooes out- “I’m sorry.” "Your Highness," I interject.

-There is no question of a 'sorry' when the rape and torture and murder of a two year old girl is considered. Infant.. I emphasize.

...

The orders come out shortly.

There is no place for mercy... The order read.

...

Beg as much as you want.

Mercy? You won't get.

While passing by a river,

I saw you through the mist.

Walking in the shadows,

seeking solace from the destruction of my life.

You seemed so out of place.

A hallow place of calm,

in the mayhem of the forest.

I was drawn to you,

and so my stay began.

Sitting with you in the abyss,

I was not searching for an escape.

I hid with you in the depths of midnights for so long,

I lost my sight.

The world in which we lived was nothing, but empty.

I desired to give every ounce of myself to your darkness,

but I wasn’t brave enough to part with my own life.

The moment I opened my eyes,

you vanished.

And so I was again, beside the river, in the forest of chaos, alone.

I had always been alone, though,

for you were merely the loss of hope within myself.

Sometimes, I still hear your voice when I walk beside the river.

Whispering to give my life to you.

Though, I travel on,

for now.

“You’ve been missing my worth,” she mocked.

“No, I know your worth better than you I think” he turned her joke serious.

Silence filled the space between them.

In the months since they met he continued to speak to her with such a fondness,

but she never could determine his intentions.

Through his eyes she felt a masterpiece.

And it no longer mattered that nobody else was looking,

the only gaze she wanted was his.

Memories.

Some consume our hearts.

Some set our souls on fire.

Some destroy us.

Some require us to catch our breath.

Some burden us with painful desire.

Life runs in a straight line, day by day, month by month, year by year.

We travel on autopilot and go through the motions over and over.

Yet, our memories live in chaotic disorder.

And in the chaos of my memories is where I find you again.

I use these memories of you to propel myself through life and forget the human timeline.

Again, you speak of another love.

I wonder if you will ever get enough.

Another woman with whom you've never been

more open, connected, or genuine.

If you only knew how many times I've heard this speech,

you'd hold your breath and not preach.

You choose these women over me,

but do not allow me to go free.

So, here you are again, in my bed.

One hand on my thigh, the other behind your head.

We've played this game for thirteen years,

I tell myself you're worth the tears.

You still kiss me with such intensity and heat,

No high could ever compete.

There is something about the way your hands trace my skin.

For just a moment, I feel like yours again.

I’ve never understood the depiction of the devil in red.

Red for the fires one will endure, if they follow the plight of sin?

How can hell be made of fire.

Fire which is passion, it is fuel for love and courage, not hatred.

The devil is soulless, dark, and empty.

The devil comes to us when the blues of sadness have gone.

When the red fires of anger have subsided.

When gluttony’s green robes are full.

When jealousies purple monster is asleep.

The devil travels by shadow during day and in the darkness of night.

Silence.

It fills the awkward spaces at the start.

It bridges the gaps in the middle.

It plunges in-between the moments we take to appreciate life.

And It burdens us when the end has arrived.

We pray for it.

We accept it.

We hide behind it.

We breathe it in.

We let it becomes us.

A person’s feelings about silence change

as quickly as the days come and go.

Unfortunately, the silences we appreciate and hate,

are not really silences at all.

Silence is the crickets chirping at night.

It is the wind blowing through the tree's branches.

It is the rain splashing against the pavement.

It is the heartbeat of another person.

Silence is full of unspoken words and memories.

And the silence we know is only a mirage

of true and absolute silence.

You constantly speak of the boundaries of your love;

Why should I expect you to offer me a place inside your heart?

You speak of the many chapters of your life unwritten,

I should know you will never commit me to any of your pages.

I have become so consumed in winning your affection,

That I paused my entire World for you.

But the world is not still, and the more attached to you I become,

The more life escapes me.

I want to move on,

but with every inch I move,

I bump into thoughts of you.

I wait patiently,

Waiting for you tell me how this will end.

Will it be us in the end?

The walls I’ve built have dissipated with the departing light and without even a whisper from my lips, the night somehow knows all my darkest secrets.

The night does not care about the treason against my heart, it pulls each painful memory slowly from within me, crumbling my barricades.

These tribulations hold my strength.

They have grounded me when I wanted to run.

They have spoken for me when I was scared to vocalize.

They have pushed me to action when I was scared to move.

The night does not want me to be strong, for the powerful do not lurk in the shadows.

The darkness twists and contours within me.

It melts and flows through my veins.

All the vulnerable parts within me, becoming black.