Sadistic sadness soils my soul,
No more facades; can't play this 'ole role
Sadistic rage I wear on my sleeve,
Consumed by the thoughts that buckle my knees
Sadistic euphoria is what they all see,
Their comfort, a mask...what they see isn't me
Sadistic manipulator, always a plan,
The mind of the patient...no care for her clan
The sadist is born, behavior not learned,
She drains of the souls from those who get burned
A fire so bright, seems to most beautiful,
The sadist herself is ruthless and rueful
She cares not the least of conscience or pain,
The sadist made friends with bad brother Cain
There may be a moment of weakness and fear,
Remembering the love of those she held dear
So this is my warning, to those in her path,
You'll soon be the bearer of all of her wrath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem