True Torture - Poem by Elizabeth Spencer
The cold wet trickle of
water, on my forehead,
Burning sensation of fear,
My stomach, rising, to my head
This is true, torture.
Hoping the cold stream will end,
knowing that it won't ever stop.
As if being tied down forced
to bear this true, torture.
Some say I deserve this,
What wrong doing did i commit?
Then, I realize...
I ment to fix my water heater,
That is the true, torture.
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