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Sep 26, 2011


The metal tinge of blood is in the air,
It's smell so strong, I can smell it in my hair.
The blood forms a crusty layer
Where those gashes run deep and permanent.
The bruises and bloody cuts surround my eyes
I see red. I see red. I see nothing but red,
The red shards of pain that cling to my mane,
And the brilliant red of those eyes.

Those eyes
That like a crayon-like dark night
Evoke a heart-hammering fear---
Maniacal eyes, pulled so wide
To imitate the width of that teeth-baring smile.
Menacing. Just like the sound of the whip
This crazed monster brandishes in its human hands.

With every act of butchering
It inflicts on my poor, innocent body
I recoil---
With every recoil, I recede---

Back into that cage.
And soon enough I am right where I started.

I never used to notice these entrapping steel bars
While my skin was unmarked with the signs of abuse.
But now, the blood leaves my coffin of a body at an alarming rate,
I am an artwork of gashes running with blood.
I am the Mecca of pain at this moment in time
And I have to bleed in this cage, unable to cry.

Those humans, 
Whose voices aren't sliced by metal jars,
If only I were you.


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