A Masochist 

​Maybe I am a masochist

Who enjoys watching you

Crumble me again and again

Its a sad pleasure that I crave

Where I wake up from my coffin

And call you back to me again

Only for you to lie my corpse

On a bed filled with nails
Your silent sighs sooth my burning soul

Only to become erratic

At your  lifting me up gently

Towards your face ; giving me time

To breathe your essence in

And then be smashed back again

Into the now blood drenched bed made of nails

Crushed under your weight

But still you never hear a word of my complaints
They died the day I chose

You to become the medium of my demise

Suffocating, painful yet addictive

Its a state of being constantly aware

Why my body is still alive and working 

At your mercy, at your service
You call it my ultimate submission

I call it my obsession for you

Which has forced my soul to leave this world

To give you what you deserve

A person you can now call yours to

Toy with, damage, share or burn even

I am now nothing but your weekly paradise

Where you come to demand your rights

And I am expected to oblige



6 Comments Add yours

  1. Wow! That’s amazing! Really very good! I love that kind of poetry. In the darkness there is also light. Thank you for sharing! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Well said. Darkness and light are two sides of the the same coin.
      Your most welcome 😊

      Liked by 1 person

      1. The true night is inside us.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. phillister says:

    Nice and blunt, addiction

    Liked by 1 person

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