Screams
rip tissue from his throat
as blood drips
from every word.
Pain wears the mask of pleasure
as he sticks pins
thru every inch
of available flesh.
This used to used to
be a hobby,
now it’s a religion.
1 Pages:1
Please Rate This Submission:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- Recent
Comments - Add a
Comment - Send
Feedback Send private anonymous feedback to the author (click here to post a public comment instead).
There are no recent comments (2 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (2)