The Pain Game

Slicing words into your arm The sight of blood causes alarm You continue to bleed Though it burns you proceed Tonight will be your dying day Now is the final act of your play The words you carve are those of pain For others to see when you are slain When your arms are good and red The time has come to join the dead You climb atop of a tall tree The journeys a small victory Around your neck you tie the rope You jump slowly losing hope And as you hang you start to see All your former miseries And though you gasp for one last breath All you receive is your death.