A Pound Of Flesh Poem by Max Gatrell

A pound of flesh I fain bestow,
Serrated blades caress my cheek.
Allegiance shaky to a foe,
Self inflicted scars are chic.

Excoriate, strip the skin,
Defile this wanton frame.
Flay completely with a grin,
Release me from my shame.

The time is thus, beyond debate,
I'm yours to sacrifice.
Immolation on a plate,
Serve me with some rice.

Tease me not, guide thy blade,
Wound, I beg thee deep.
Prove to me you're not afraid,
I crave an endless sleep.

Use these entrails for a rite,
Burn this fat, appease.
If you want it take a bite,
But fear my dark disease.

Well disposed towards thee friend,
A face within the throng.
I've been praying for this end,
Where did it all go wrong.