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Rated: 18+ · Prose · Experience · #1491874
Some relationships are not what they should be...
victory


Me the seething creature be, hell bent and scarred as you can see.
Tis you that waged this war on me, my putrid wounds drain crimson and white
Many a year I bore your wrath for what? Love, fear and loneliness?
This has done naught for me but chilled my heart, broke my spirit,
Purged my soul of the pretty things you once admired, now you have claimed.
So now you feast your rage upon my frame, so hard, so unyielding, so old.

The darkness has taken over what was sound and linen white,
The cold from within chills the warm summer night,
Doubts scrape me raw, my breath leaves crystals forming in the air
Around the grimace that takes up permanent residence here,
Without yielding to those who try to help, it is the greeting to you now.
Comfort and refuge seek I no more, from the arms that seek a warmer shore.

The elements may as well batter my body bare, there is little left here to share
You left me cold, shaking; eyes not laughing, or gloating, but uncaring, turn away.
Don't you have the decency to admire your handiwork? Tis brilliant you know…
Evil fingers pull away, abandon, draging, cutting like razored claws,
Yielding yet another shallow gash. Not mercifully mortal, just painful,
I thought my blood would, could please the sadistic wretch.

Red tinged tears squeeze from the depths of my despairing heart…
This is what you want? This you did not need to do, cruel one.
It was I gave you the keys to my prison, the caldron in which to boil the bitter brew
That I am force fed, daily, the elixir of my eventual end, the demise of my spirit.
Your freedom of will prevails at last over my twisted carcass.

Torture me no more. I beseech you; there is no glory in this defeat.
I sense no happiness at my loss. Tisk, tisk. It is just an utter shame.
Just another victim to skewer with poison blade, with venom tongue.
You twist it for good measure, cold eyes stare as the body slides off.
Leave me here to rot, you may now go about your business as you will.
Will you shout, raise cane at your victory? It is done, you have won.

I surrender. End it.
© Copyright 2008 Angelwrath (angelwrath at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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