I love this poem...the last part was written first, the first part was written second and the second part was written last...kinda wierd huh? well this is basically what I dream about all the time...hasn't changed since I was 12...There will be more TWIZ
part 1
Your appetite for others pain is growing.
Throwing anything I can find at you,
I throw my words.
Your'e gaining life by hurting other lives.
I'm trying to breath,
but you've drained my lungs,
now the war between us has begun.
part 2
Blood red eyes,
bloodshot eyes,
and all the tries to fall asleep.
Fall asleep dreaming,
wake up screaming.
Nightmares,
my hair,
i'm choking.
Blood drips down my arm,
my cheek,
my sheets are soaked.
Chair,
tortured once more.
Nothing like this is nothing compared to darkness.
Duct tape,
my body is twisted in painful positions.
I start to cry,
the pain is unbareable,
but he doesn't care.
He's sharing what he went through,
but why me?
Why an innocent little boy that lives off his parents care?
At least they were kind enough to share their love.
I want to scream,
want to curse his name for choosing me,
but what do I do if i'm choked with a rag?
I want to wake up from this nightmare,
but the result is just more pain.
The shame he starts to feel,
suicide's the way out from his guilt.
Spilt the blood he desperatly wanted to drain.
He gained all that he wanted,
and left me here to die.
waiting patiently for some other guy,
hopefully not to torture,
rape me of my happiness of my happier days.
So here I wait,
just another persons bait to set me free,
but what I get is what makes me wish I was dead...
part 3
Nobody hears me scream,
as the blood runs down the stream.
I see the bodies on the wall,
nobody heres me fall.
He grabs a knife,
he grabs a victim,
makes me watch as he slits him.
He's done with that one,
says we'll have fun.
Unties me from the chair,
grabs my head by the hair.
Slams it down onto a table,
cuts the back of my neck,
to many times to count.
All this time I say nothing,
as the blood is gushing.
He stabs a hook into my back,
thrown to the ground like a potatoe sack.
I scream a bloodcurdling scream.
I wake up,
still in pain,
am I still sane?
Hear the cries of the tortured.
All I can do is stare straight faced,
I did it again,
am I going insane?
David Lomenick
Poetry by David Lomenick
Read 650 times
Written on 2006-11-26 at 04:13
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TWIZTED NIGHTMARE
(The Life you gain from pain)part 1
Your appetite for others pain is growing.
Throwing anything I can find at you,
I throw my words.
Your'e gaining life by hurting other lives.
I'm trying to breath,
but you've drained my lungs,
now the war between us has begun.
part 2
Blood red eyes,
bloodshot eyes,
and all the tries to fall asleep.
Fall asleep dreaming,
wake up screaming.
Nightmares,
my hair,
i'm choking.
Blood drips down my arm,
my cheek,
my sheets are soaked.
Chair,
tortured once more.
Nothing like this is nothing compared to darkness.
Duct tape,
my body is twisted in painful positions.
I start to cry,
the pain is unbareable,
but he doesn't care.
He's sharing what he went through,
but why me?
Why an innocent little boy that lives off his parents care?
At least they were kind enough to share their love.
I want to scream,
want to curse his name for choosing me,
but what do I do if i'm choked with a rag?
I want to wake up from this nightmare,
but the result is just more pain.
The shame he starts to feel,
suicide's the way out from his guilt.
Spilt the blood he desperatly wanted to drain.
He gained all that he wanted,
and left me here to die.
waiting patiently for some other guy,
hopefully not to torture,
rape me of my happiness of my happier days.
So here I wait,
just another persons bait to set me free,
but what I get is what makes me wish I was dead...
part 3
Nobody hears me scream,
as the blood runs down the stream.
I see the bodies on the wall,
nobody heres me fall.
He grabs a knife,
he grabs a victim,
makes me watch as he slits him.
He's done with that one,
says we'll have fun.
Unties me from the chair,
grabs my head by the hair.
Slams it down onto a table,
cuts the back of my neck,
to many times to count.
All this time I say nothing,
as the blood is gushing.
He stabs a hook into my back,
thrown to the ground like a potatoe sack.
I scream a bloodcurdling scream.
I wake up,
still in pain,
am I still sane?
Hear the cries of the tortured.
All I can do is stare straight faced,
I did it again,
am I going insane?
David Lomenick
Poetry by David Lomenick
Read 650 times
Written on 2006-11-26 at 04:13
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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