Tortuous Sorrow Poem by Tricia Lemaster

We won't meet until darkness comes.
You'll find a sharp object,
It meets the skin.
You're puring blood,
drip...drip...
It is now the end of all sorrow.
Your destination is now where you'll
meet me.
You'll be stuck in a hot bath
of your own blood.
Now that your old sorrow is
now to an end, what kind of
tortuous sorrow must I bring
you now? ! ?
Maybe I'll drown you in your lovers
blood, or shall I bring your pride and joy back to Earth
and end all human race?