A slow boil
Atop the grandly gruesome stovetop
It broods in the deep, dark depths of it's cage.
"Turn up the heat! We won't be able to use that thing if it's not cooked!"
The shaky fingers complete the order.
It can feel the radiating heat come though the floor.
It's grey skin reddens.
If it could scream it would, but it just laughs.
It can't move anymore but it laughs.
If that man was competent, it wouldn't be in so much pain now.
But no, he had to make his apprentice do this.
Arrogant piece of crap.
Ah!
There it comes.
It's little angel.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of the Dark, Dark Depths
PoésieFeelings hurt, others insult and we cry, as we lie in our cold embrace together, but they don't know what I think, but now you will. WARNING: Some poems may be triggering PLEASE DON'T STEAL THESE FROM ME.
