The Truth of Death

The sound of burning flesh, the smell of rotted meat, A slow and painful death, but still the heart beats Blood mixed with bile, urine with tears, A twisted vile, uncontroled fear. Nails torn off, fingers shreded up, Hands turned soft, melting off like slop Arms sliced deeply, along the thin veins, Muscles sliced cleanly, inscribed in bones are names, Each rib is broken, in 10 distinct places, Kept one as a token, tied up in laces, Nipples sliced across, stomach sliced open, This is but a cost, this is but a notion, Ass ripped apart, covered in hungry wasps Do not depart, life is but a cost, Legs embeded, with ultra-sharp razors Life headed, for full danger Unknowingly psychotic in porcelain eyes, She lived slightly, before she finally dies.