Garbage Day

Chained to a wall,
Hair starting to fall,
Day after day,
Flesh wasting away,
Open wounds, buboes, and pustules,
Festering, glistening, like green, red, white, and black jewels.
Stuck there,
'Till the day I remember,
To take out all the garbage.
I found in life, my little niche,
Some may call this way of life foolish,
But it's a part of me I'll always cherish.
In this manner, I may seem a bit raffish,
But in reality, meticulously devilish.
Torture and murder is my hobby,
Egged on, and thrilled by every plea.
Finally the day,
When they take you away,
In the dilapidated, decrepit, garbage truck,
A bedraggled body, they'll unknowingly chuck.
Then back to the daily grind,
And before I die, more bodies I'll leave behind.
And you will see,
My repayment of the debt accrued against me,
And my reality.