Through the Eyes of my Victim

[The Rod]

hanging in his cellar, my beaten body sways

starved and painful is my being, i've been hanging here for days

bruises, tears, and lashes now decorate my skin

I no longer think within reason, for my mind is now a haze

I wonder when did this start, when did it begin

with the hooks wedged deep within my chest, the bludgeoning of my shins?

my thoughts are scattered here and there, the past seeming so far

more pleasant memories wiped out as the hammer smacks my chin

looking devilishly at my eyes, there he puts out his cigar

takes his jagged knife and angrily carves a pagan star

any untouched areas the ice pick then does shred

my body now resembles his painful mental scar

what lies next in wait for me my mind can only dread

he maniacally rambles on to me as my soul is bled

this dark and dank strange cellar has now become my bed

for my body is now useless, battered, broken, dead

This was written in the Quatrain chain rhyme scheme.