Shackles Of Torment

Dreadful, dark, eerie!
In an attic, I’m locked,
Come out?
How?
When the world is ready to torment me,
Ready to grind the abloom petals of mine?

How?
When the attic was your handiwork,
Trapped me here with an odd smile on?
The explosives outside my little prison,
What do they mean?
The heavy locks on the door,
Ain’t I trapped for life?

The whip marks on my body,
Beautiful and colorful, you said, huh?
When you tied me to vent on me,
Did you care about the ligature marks that’d be left on me?
When you pinched my chin hard,
To force your rough lips on mine,
Did you think about my well-being?

How?
When all you do is grope me,
With your rough and filthy hands?
When you crushed me to nothing,
Made my eyes’ brightness dim,
Listless and lifeless,
Come out?
Heh…