And I Waited For Death To Come

And I Waited For Death To Come.

I Lay On The Teak Plank,
Bounded To It With Ropes,
On My Limbs,
Relentlessly I Twisted And Turned,
Trying To Elaberate A Butterfly Of Hope To Myself,
Only To Find My Self Barriaged By A Force Field,
That Stomped Upon Hope,
Leaving Me To Feel Like An Ant,
Under A Magnifin Glass.

Waiting For Death To Come I Quite,
A Long, Cold, Red With Rust Nail Sractched Upon My Back,
It Stabbed Throught He Board I Lyed Upon,
Smoothly Peircing My Skin,
As A Stainless Steel Knife Does To A Tomatoe,
It Hurt Much At First,
I Felt The Blood Sliver Down My Back,
But I Realised I Soon Couldn’t Move At All,
Lased With Something It Was,

If I Had Felt A Thousand Ichs On My Side,
I Would Of Felt Better,
The Next Test Came Sure Enough,
And I Waited For Death To Come,

A Large Plate,
Overly Decorated With Tiny, Little, Prickly, Barbed, Pinpoints Of Needles,
Every Other One Was Curved Or Staited,
It Looked Like A Fishing Hook And Gaff Colleciton For Insects,
It Slowly Lowered Over My Torso,
Every Inch Closer I Cry Unsightfully,
Closing My Eyes,
Unable To Scream,
And I Waited For Death To Come,

The Obscure Poking Device,
Made Home On Me For A Moment,
Then Slowly But Surely Rose Away From Me,
I Dare Not Look At What It Did To My Body,
As For I Felt It!

My Chest Now Skinless,
A Peice Of Meat,
I Looked To See The Tissue Moving Around,
And The Thump Of My Heart Moving What Little Layering Remained,
My Lower Region Once Round And A Valley Of Abs,
Now A Tarnished Flat,
The Blood Didn’t Just Bleed It Faded Away From Me,
It Sept Away And Flowed To The Floor,
As If It Had Never Anything To Do With Me,
And I Waited For Death To Come,

The Bear Remains Of My Limbs I Awaited Their Punishment,
Brutal Things Were Expected,
But The Worst Thing Of All Happened.
The Teak Plank Raised Up,
It Slowly Flipped,
I Could See The Floor Now,
It Was White And Ever So Gleaming,
I Assumed It Was Snow,
And I Waited For Death To Come,

I Plunged To The Ground Limbs Freely Hanging,
As The Tables Ropes Magically Let Go,
A Ailment Over Come Me,
As For That Once Beautiful Freedom Of Snow,
Had Actually Been A Mounded Floor Of Salt,
And I Waited For Death To Come,

The Sting Was Not There,
I Hurt For A Minor Second,
I Was Already Bearly Consious From The Loose Of My Juices,
I Opened My Eyes Wide,
Hooked On To My Remaining Stomach,
Watched My Self Dry Up Like A Slug,
And I Waited For Death To Come.

More Shayari by Aaron Tate
27 Jun 2008 No Comment 8

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