This Pain
by Warlond Androgas Arkane
I can’t get rid of this feeling, It is tearing me apart inside.
It pains me so but won’t go, It feels like my insides are tied.
I just can’t let go of this feeling, It makes me feel content.
Like the perfect type of pain, Like broken, but never sent.
Holding off this feeling, Is like completed bliss.
Nothing like before, More close than a miss.
It is ripping me apart,
Tearing at my organs,
Pulling at my brains,
And stretching my intestines.
I then grab the nearest knife, And thrust it toward my chest.
It is the only way to get rid of the pain, And is also the very best.
The knife sinks in, And pinches every nerve,
But not before slicing them, Leaving them incurved.
It does this through every layer, And spreads disease far and wide.
The rusty blade is dragging now, Scraping the inside.
It doesn’t go quite through, And is lagging on the pierce.
It is distinguishing its move, Going through more fierce.
I then leave it erected in my heart, And gag in hate and pain,
And think at least to myself, I will not have to do it again.