7-14-07
Sucking up the blood that pours;
It’s coming out again;
I still feel the scissors cutting my flesh
My body covered in crimson
I struggled for a while
The torture of my mortal soul shook and trembled
I got to a point of nothing
I sat there in that metal chair
Both my arms demented; tied behind my back
My legs having chunks of my flesh gone
A few toes missing
My index finger gone
But my face beheld a smile of serenity
I sigh and lick my tender bloody lips
Feeling the deep cracks in them
Tasting my insides
I crack my jaw and bite my tongue
Blood spurts out of my mouth
I choke a little
I laugh and lean forward as far as I can
I vomit pints of blood
My breathes are long and troubling
I’ve not eaten for so long
My memory is gone
I can smell the rot of my body and see the bruises I’m blanketed with
But I don’t die
Nor will I ever
But I sit here and let myself be tortured
A contest entry
- My Pain, My Pride, These Scars are Mine. by Epilogue.
600 points, ended October 9, 2007, 30 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Dark PW's by RX-Queen.
900 points, ended June 26, 2008, 93 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This gives a frightening image, a disturbing one... I'm not a huge fan of free-verse but this isn't bad Good work
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Thanks. I really don't physically do stuff like that. Instead I write about it as if I am. That's how I get pain out.
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