You scream a thousand
Hypodermic needles piercing
into the heart.
Half the pain
Half the lust
In a whole it's torture.

Stay away from her;
she isn't worth the risk.
Her heart is made of angels
which fell into the pits.

Scrutinizing eyes examine her naked bod
as subjects wait for order
"She'll do," He mummers in lust and pity
not only to his subjects but to himself as well
Then he used her up
and like a pencil shaven to the nub
he threw her in his trash

Truly she was comfortable there
as she was with those who understood
her misfortunes and disfigurements
and all these women and men
stood in circles
signing hymns and prayers
that only their god could hear
but never did he respond.

Acupuncture of the heart
not with needles but her words
pinch every nerve
and numb every thought.