On the first hit, my skin did crack.

Yet they continued to bring their whip back.

It is my blood, splattered all over these walls;

It is my screams that echo down the halls.

The tormentors have left me, if only for now.

I lay in the corner, like a well beaten sow.

It is my blood, that stains these walls;

It is my screams that rattle these halls.

Then someone took pity on me,

releasing the bonds that constrained; setting me free.

Now I see, it might have been a lesser fate,

as I continue to try, and dissolve my hate.