Beautifully Tortured

It was your fault.
If you knew any better, it wouldn’t have happened to you.
But you let it.
You let it beat you.
And now you are paying for it.
You bleed for everything.
What happens to you?
You would like to know wouldn’t you.
So here it is.
Your suffering.
Not mine.
Deep slashes up and down your back from a dull knife.
Holes dug into your arms and legs from my nails.
Your stomach torn apart with the helpings of a whip.
I see the blood drip down your nearly lifeless body.
The blood drips off of you onto the wall you are nailed to.
That’s right.
I took nails and nailed you to the wall.
You look at me with crying eyes.
I was tired of it.
I took out one of your eyes with a spoon.
I then took another nail and nailed your eye next to you upon the wall.
Blood gushes out of the socket.
I take that dull knife I used to cut your back and I cut your mouth apart.
Your lips bleed for all the trash you talked on me.
I ripped off your fingers with pliers.
Is the pain getting to you yet?
I slit your ankles.
If I were to slit your wrists you’d die.
I clipped your Achilles tendons.
Does it hurt yet?
I’ll take a razor and shave the skin off your arms.
I’ve left scrapes across you everywhere.
You now have no skin covering the inside flesh of your arms and legs.
The worse hasn’t come yet.
I poor gallons and gallons of rubbing alcohol on your bare flesh.
I let it burn.
I watch you suffer.
I watch you bleed.
I watch the puddle of rubbing alcohol and blood swish across the floor.
I smile.
I now begin to saw off the skin on top of your skull.
I poor more rubbing alcohol on you.
I watch you bleed and suffer until you finally die.
I walk away happily as you hang, nailed to the wall.