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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #2014797
An old sonnet I wrote back in 10th grade. I don't think I got the iambic pentameter.
The metallic taste of blood on my tongue
Blood unyieldingly flowing from fresh cuts
The body unmoving when I am done
Pulling from the carcass all of the guts

The warmth of blood pooling all around me
Basking in the bloody mess I just made
Flooding my awareness with all my glee
Bereft of my humanity, last raid

Another toast to the blood I have spilled
Gorging upon my bountiful red feast
Tearing, ripping, until I am fulfilled
Shredding flesh and bone as if I am beast

Loneliness after I have had my fill
My wish to never again, have to kill
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