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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.
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