If you could cut deep into my bearable blood,
Would you see it as a circuitry of veins,
Madly manifesting itself across blackened bones?
But I won't forget when it rains all the pain,
Salivating from scarlet sides of that knife of wood.
If you could slash hard into my subtle skin,
Would you know it to be a mimicry of silicon,
Insanely invigorating itself over mildewed muscles?
But I won't forget when it snows all the blows,
Impacting from emerald edges of that dagger of sin.
If you could claw slowly into my pitiable plastic,
Would you find it more than a secrecy of nerves,
Wildly wasting itself under obliterated organs?
But I won't forget when it hails all the flails,
Singing from crimson curves of those talons of static.
A dark poem about a cyborg being tortured.