Process of Withering Bedevilment

As I saw the frost etch on the basement window

I knew another gruesome season was in wake

As I lie on the bloody and filthy mattress

My wine is in silence

The numbing pounding against my cheeks

The horrid throbbing of my throat

The strength of a battle cry

But an outcome of a soft whisper

My body writhes in agony from its new use as an ashtray

Surrounding me is complete black dampness

I wait for my body to succumb to eternal sleep

Hoping that I would not wake up the next day

Dehydration, starvation, burns, whippings

I grow sick of withering at the destructive force of inhumanity

Suddenly, my ears detect booming of feet on the upper floor

My heart works its damndest from terror

However, it is not the songbird it once was

I see a cruel ominous shadow lurking in the doorway

I use what little strength I have to try to get away

I can barely move a centimeter

Trapped on this bloody soiled mattress

An aged woman fueled by anger emerges from the shadowy cloak

She clutches a needle and candle in her sweaty fists

My dress is lifted to reveal my belly as she straddles me

Making sure that escaping is a mere dream

She holds the flame near her face as she places the tip of the needle inside

Revealing her sadistic smile grow wider across her wretched face

She forces the searing needle into my belly

This torturous carving seems like it goes on for eternity

She rises to her feet cackling to herself

The most wicked cackle anyone could imagine

She scurries back up the stairs

I hunch over to see what she has done to me

To my horror, the awful message read,

"I'M A PROSTITUTE AND PROUD OF IT!"