A minute is slicing my nerves

It gives me a pressure along my body's curves

Muting my voice down to the silence

Betraying me, my gestures are put in defiance 

A minute ago I was a human

60 slices later I'm less than a human

All now is dragged by the flight of the time

Cruel and sharp as a brand new IKEA knife

That reduced my body to the value of dime

Bloody slime, 

Why do not my instincts strife?

Shall I count down from five?

Four, three, two, one

Murder Song?

It's done...

How long?




Manifested through the precision cuts

Resistance sprays these slimy drops

Through the protruding guts

To the end

Am I portrayed by my own thoughts? 

I guess it's just as it's been

It's nothing new, as always, it hurts

Stained and sealed by my scarlet drops

You're all damned rubbish herds 




This poem is about: 
My community


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