Time Flies

Waiting is the greatest pain,  Though most of me remains slain;  Legs propped up on iron heaters,  In my mouth spins an egg beater-  Roughly, duct tape holds it there,  Wrapped around my crimson hair-  Holding in the spinning end,  Tearing so no one could mend.  Will my torturer return?  I cry to think of all I've learned.  Even through the scars he burns,  He says there's more for me to earn.  Waiting, gurgling, and praying,  Burning, yearning, burnt legs splaying,  I can't conceive what could come after,  I resort to insane laughter.  Though I choke on blood and teeth,  Through the smell of my burnt meat,  I laugh harder, my mind flees  Closer toward insanity.  The deadbolt slides, I hear the door:  Creaking, scratching on the floor,  He walks through, I smell him now,  Expensive cologne flows down.  He leans in, I feel his breath,  Then his hands upon my chest,  He whispers one last sick goodbye,  "You won't be the last to die."