"... torture."
You gurgle softly as blood trickle down your throat,
staining your pale skin with cobwebs of crimson.
Your hands claw at your skin,
trying to rip the excruciating pain away.
Your eyes are red from crying,
screwed shut tightly.
Your voice is low and rough,
hoarse from hours of screaming.
You wish that this never ending torture would take you away,
but you are kept on the brink of death.
People take pleasure in your distress,
laughing at you expense.
Because to them,
you are nothing more than filth,
a ugly stain on their rich plush carpet.
staining your pale skin with cobwebs of crimson.
Your hands claw at your skin,
trying to rip the excruciating pain away.
Your eyes are red from crying,
screwed shut tightly.
Your voice is low and rough,
hoarse from hours of screaming.
You wish that this never ending torture would take you away,
but you are kept on the brink of death.
People take pleasure in your distress,
laughing at you expense.
Because to them,
you are nothing more than filth,
a ugly stain on their rich plush carpet.
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