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Skin sinks -

a cold blade

My blood drips -

love turns to pain

A gruesome task

to fit the flesh

you once caressed

onto a bun

You told me “you need me”

said “it was true love”

I can’t help but wonder

if I was ever “the one?”

Corpse discovered and pissed upon.

Intestines ripped for play things.

My body becomes a tool to serve.

Finally useful - once the soul is gone.