This poem is a dark poem. Another poem that will probably stand next to the other dark poem "Leather Straps". I seem to create some very dark things and for that, I’m sorry to say that I can’t help it. This poem is also very deep and I’m connecting it to a bigger idea that is very real in the real world. I’ll leave it to the reader. Comments are open.
Duct Tape
The screams
Can be heard
In a minimal
Echo.
In a
Small room.
The rats
Scatter.
The smell
Of uric stench
And feces
And blood
That is smeared
Along the walls.
The ceiling
Disappears
Into the Darkness.
In the
Small room
Superior pain
Flows.
The screams
Have been brought
To a minimum
Once again.
In the small room
A man
In the nude
Is being beaten.
With baseball bats
And crowbars.
The blood
Slowly
Seeps
From the skin.
The single
Light bulb
Dangles
Overhead.
They crowd
Around him.
To just wish
To be dead
Isn’t a nightmare
But only
A dream.
Water-boarding.
The beating
Goes on.
In blood
And small cuts
Avoiding
Vital organs.
This is going
To be
A slow
Painful Death.
The sweat
Water
And blood
Shines
Among
The beaten
Skin.
They hold off.
Stretching.
The grey tape
Goes around
The mouth
Around the neck
And head.
They throw him
To the ground.
Crumbled
In a heap
He only wishes
He was dead.
And to hope
For death
The to hope
For life
And to live
Is just wrong.
The man whimpers
Slowly
As the door
Slams shut
Leaving him
Alone.
The Duct Tape
Around his head
Arms
And ankles
Prevent
An and all
Free will
Of motion.
Yet
The Duct Tape
Pacifiers
And soothes
The man
To sleep.
Currently there are no comments related to "Duct Tape". You have a special honor to be the first commenter. Thanks!
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
