The Tormentor

Even in the stars, a man will encounter a torment The memory of her torments you like an inexorable poison that poisons every thought. In the depths of your mind, he dwells — a Tormentor, a black man, the embodiment of your guilt, hatred and pain, devouring the remnants of your soul. He whispers about your sins, that you have done irreparable things, that you have destroyed everything that was dear. Under his yoke, you can't look away from her footprints in the virtual world — you search for her photos, her new avatars, cling to the illusion that she can return, but each find only increases your horror, turning hope into a painful realization of your own insignificance. Your life is a slow fade, where every breath is saturated with self—loathing, and every night is a fight against the rats that gnaw at your mind. You are waiting for the end of your existence, dreaming of death as the only salvation, but even in this you see only your guilt, your pathetic self, unworthy of forgiveness.