The Names I Became

My name is Turmoil.
The state of mind you cannot name,
the feeling without language.
I am the noise that swells and swallows,
until clarity drowns beneath me.
I arrive when sleep reaches for you,
slipping into the quiet you hoped would save you.
I do not rest,
so why should you?
There is no fight, no flight,
only the path I press beneath your feet.

My name is Pain.
The weight in your chest with no origin,
no wound to point to.
A dull, unmoving pressure
that never quite loosens its grip.
I am the burden born
when everything tangles beyond repair.
I sound the alarms you cannot silence,
louder than the voices that still care.

My name is Agony.
The fire threading through your nerves,
unrelenting, intimate.
I am the coil within you,
tightening, tightening,
until breath itself feels borrowed.
I do not accept refusal.
I sever you from the world beyond your skin,
turn every feeling past its breaking point,
until one final thought rises
and refuses to let go.

My name is Torment.
Cruel in a way that almost feels like devotion.
I cling without mercy,
my grip unyielding, eternal.
There is no focus but me.
I hunger without limit,
devouring all you hold close.
Your mind bends to endless what-ifs,
until even memory erodes,
and what is
becomes what was.

My name was once Yours.
Given softly through affection,
crafted in the warmth of your embrace.
It lived in every memory we built,
rooted deep in something we called devotion.
Sealed in passion,
sustained by longing,
needing nothing more
than the quiet reverence of us.

Now?
My name no longer matters.
I was everything,
turned to nothing.
I was the problem.
I was metal meeting flesh.
I was the fine print no one read.

Now I am,
faded intent,
ill will,
a lost cause.
Love misplaced.
A hollow apology.
A cold touch.
The last thought that lingers
before silence finally takes its place.