murder

i scream, in vain
your tools pierce me
in my most delicate places
this will feel good, you say

the thrill in your eyes is evident
i lie limp, only my trembles
betraying how i feel, because
i'm not supposed to feel anything

his scent was familar, laced with venom
suddenly, i was covered in something
so impure, ironically, in pure white
this body had given itself to him

my insides still stirred with his influence
as i hoped death would come quickly
to this soiled anatomy
to being "deflowered", as if i had wilted

and his tools were put away
as the job was finished
but he was no longer a doctor
but my coroner

 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741