Equal age, history,
Gender and morality.
Two in black
Strapped to tables,
Hold them back.
Both awake and feeling,
Terror trembles bone.
Reason trapped unknown.
Tools lowered, grates slide,
Sharpened jags prepared with pride,
Vessels bloat with searing oil;
Sweat from devils' fervent toil.
Fire-starters set alight,
Spikes and drills inspire fright.
"Only time will end your plight,"
Booms a voice from out of sight.
Morbid pleasures' sheer delight
Shut the other's vision tight.
One cries dread as one's excite
Echoes frozen in the night.
Hours pass in torture brought
Seemingly without a cause,
Through methods to give Satan pause,
For no such woe had darkness wrought.
Detail writ insults the scene,
For text can only hope to show
What a spectator could glean
From pain those two were made to know.
Daybreak shone through dirtied panes,
And as the blackness lifted past
Each instrument, the floating grains
Of dust were lit from Sun rays cast.
"Go thee now,
Peace I vow.
Make no sound."
So, in silence,
Two in white
Left from violence
Toward the light.
Twisted bodies linger still
In incomparable torment,
And offer as a monument
To one's sorrow and others' thrill.
Optimistic, one did thrive
On each new scar carved in their flesh
As stress and terror kept alive
Their will and motivation fresh.
Pessimistic, one did fall
Far before their purposed year,
For that upon which some may call
To mend their spirits, others fear.
So the lives of those are spent
Who take anguish as sacrament,
While, for the anxious, time is brief,
As every wrinkle's born of grief.