How Sweet Am I?
"Oh, how sweet!" my mouth wants to say
gulping down sugar on my final day.
The taste is exquisite; my tongue has to twitch.
I moan my approval in a deep, throaty pitch.
I lie on my back, soaking it in
like Honey on bread, yet sharp like a pin.
Tasting the sorrow, absorbing the strife,
swallowing needles that reflected my life.
I hold in my cries, refusing to yell,
not letting my pleasure-screams bring you, my Hell.
I take in my anger, embrace all my pain,
release all my hatred, inhale it again.
Don't rush in and "save" me; I'm begging you, no.
I enjoy this torture; it's my friend, not a foe.
Please let me bask in this celestial last flood
of my favorite dessert: my dying self's blood.
gulping down sugar on my final day.
The taste is exquisite; my tongue has to twitch.
I moan my approval in a deep, throaty pitch.
I lie on my back, soaking it in
like Honey on bread, yet sharp like a pin.
Tasting the sorrow, absorbing the strife,
swallowing needles that reflected my life.
I hold in my cries, refusing to yell,
not letting my pleasure-screams bring you, my Hell.
I take in my anger, embrace all my pain,
release all my hatred, inhale it again.
Don't rush in and "save" me; I'm begging you, no.
I enjoy this torture; it's my friend, not a foe.
Please let me bask in this celestial last flood
of my favorite dessert: my dying self's blood.
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