Eyes sewn shut, mouth bone dry,
the black and the pain he cannot defy.
Croaks out screams till his stitches are sore
Under his fingernails is caked with gore.
Infected lacerations radiate red
Tendrils of poisoning he feels with dread
Fingers sewn together in a Chinese handcuff
The hours tick till he's had enough.
Back arched in perpetual seizure of guilt,
a reminder of the piteous existence he built.
'I'm sorry', he screams, but his screams go unheard
with lips stitched shut, the sound is absurd.
A life that is crafted from death for his mind
cannot match the horrors to which he's confined.
Eyelids strain against bloodstained threads
new wounds tear his flesh to shreds.
An ugly life, but he'll live forever
When he chose, didn't he think himself clever?