I happen to have three friends,
All of whom are messiahs
Of Pain and Despair.
The first one is Death.
He with swiftness works -
Few moments of acute pain,
And then eternal peace.
The second is Torture.
He is but more thorough.
He works slowly, steadily
And patiently;
His Subjects suffers more.
But the best of them all,
The best at his work,
Is the third one.
He makes his Subject feel pain -
An all pervading one -
With every beat of its heart,
Without ever missing a single one,
Over the rest if its forsaken life;
Its cries for mercy are futile,
For this messiah,
Is the fountainhead of sadism.
He is Unrequited Love.
How do I know him?
I am his Subject.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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