These
wicked shards of broken glass
I
feel them inside my skin
twisted
metal or beat down brass
many
choices where to begin
obsessed
with pain and hearing screams
seems
so unreal, more like dreams
obsessed
with pain
obsessed
with pain
I'm
someone that enjoys extremes
These
wicked shards of broken glass
showing
my many reflections
leather
restraints with metal clasps
whipped
'til I bled no objections
the
pleasure pain it makes me moan
it
is my erogenous zone
the pleasure
pain
the pleasure
pain
the
father's sins I do atone
These
wicked shards of broken glass
grind
them up and swallow them down
like
all good things it wouldn't last
bleed
through the lungs and slowly drown
these
crazy thoughts inside my head
acted
like the witch doctor said
these crazy
thoughts
these crazy
thoughts
give
them control you'll soon be dead
Copyright
© 2015 Patrick B Vince
Trijan
Poem
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