aftertaste || poetry

044 - waiting game

themes: anxiety, insomnia, toxicity

when the witching hour wakes me

my mind brews relentless inquisition

does my body feel its own anger

waiting to spill bile at your feet

or is the Lord giving me strength

to prepare to be ripped to shreds

you took my heart and pierced it

a million times over until i bled no more

as i lay here watching the sky

i count the hours to my execution

and the worst torture of it all

is waiting for you to strike me again

pierce my hands with the nails

you hang your sinner's cloth from

here i stand ready for your jeers

i've become chained to the pain