*WARNING:* this piece is merely an artistic rendering of betrayal. It is NOT meant to be taken literally, nor should it cause concern for my well-being. If you are sensitive to somewhat gory descriptions, please do not read this.
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Go on. Do it.
Push that gun into my temple
And pull the trigger.
Watch my life spill out.
Go on. Why wait another second?
Relish my dying groans, and sprinkle
My salty tears on your dreadful banquet of betrayal.
It is surely the only pleasure you'll get from me.
Go on, I dare you.
Rip my heart from its brittle cage
And play a bitter melody with its strings
To accompany your feast.
Don't just stand there. Do it.
Slit my wrists
Til my hands hang by a thread.
Suck the blood off my skin.
Go on. Finish me off.
Whisper sweet, sweet lies into my corpse
And bury me
In radioactive waste.
Do it, you sick, twisted monster.
Watch me die, watch me suffer.
Watch me grow strong in death
And ascend from your miserable presence.
YOU ARE READING
Tragic Poetry
PoetryHere, you will find a collection of sloppily written, heartfelt "poetry" (it can hardly be called that, as it has no rhyme or rhythm - only stanzas). These words stem from my late-night thoughts and fears. Although they are merely a mess of nonsensi...
