To be Tormented is to Surrender

To be Tormented is to Surrender.
Speak to me with an invocable softness my afloat mind yields whatever it stumbles upon.

On Thursday nights when a throbbing migraine wears off, a familiar hollow den wraps the molded corners of an unforeseen rapture, erupting fiery bolts of a specific event from thirteen years ago.
It’s the distinction of indifference from then and now, at 3:43 am when I should be at ease, an inescapable occurrence tucked away redeems it perfect a moment to seek ownership of my sanity. 

Sanity?,
a pessimistic giggle knowingly rings through the recently shaved hairs on my head.
The entirety of my mass has been enveloped in an illness.
A demanding ogre speaks for me without need for utterance of a single syllable, it’s the pale orb in my eyes that I have surrendered unto.
My incapability to erase this void disgusts me.
Which is why-

Earlier today, I stumbled without sight into a bathroom stall of somewhere I can’t seem to recall, A mute wrinkled, and cloudy drape followed me through all the mirrors I went past.
In the place where my reflection should stand, I have forsaken sought for myself.
Halting my own joy and existence, For a pointless torment of silly pebbles in my head that won’t cease.

Tonight, It’s the search for a faster way out that keeps me up.
I crawl and drag my frame into action, building a wall.
The steady shields I have set up protest in defense- “I must heal first” but persistently, horrendously Deny me of my own love.

                                                                                                                                              -Desire Ashlee

Note from Writer;

This free form poem was written for a mental health project in mental health awareness month that never got to be submitted.

The opening line, “to be tormented is to surrender,” sets a tone of resignation, introducing a central theme: the battle with one’s mind and the struggle to reclaim agency. The fluctuating pace, use of time, especially at “3:43am,” emphasizes the sleepless introspection that often accompanies emotional pain. The mention of “a demanding ogre” and “the pale orb in my eyes” personifies the torment in a way that feels tangible. This reinforces the theme of surrender, as the narrator acknowledges an externalized force overtaking their identity.

The absence of reflection in the mirror is a powerful metaphor for dissociation and loss of self. The “mute wrinkled and cloudy drape” haunting the narrator broods a chilling sense of detachment from reality.

The closing stanza, focuses on self-love and the barriers to healing, feels like a plea and a confrontation. The imagery of crawling and dragging into action contrasts with the internal resistance, to announce the tension between the desire for freedom and the oppressive weight of despair.

Through this piece, I aimed to highlight the silent pain that so often accompanies mental health challenges. I hope to create space for empathy, healing, and the recognition that self-love is both a journey and a necessity.

Sending you all my love.