deepundergroundpoetry.com

Make a martyr of me

Cut off my arms
sever my legs

Bound and gagged
as you hang me
all dropped and displayed

Sick centre piece
trophy cabinet
next to Dorian Grey

One has to ask


Fickle are the maggots
picking at those scant few morsels
Corpse husband whistling
The thunder rolls

Caged within lonely days
the dirt I am burried in
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