Battleground

The soldiers are unseen

Camouflaged in skin

Their weapons are lethal

They are elements of torture

They have captured me

Stretched out on a rack

Every muscle screams in protest

Every muscle held in a vice-like grip of agony

My jaw is locked shut

My eyes are blinded as the blades enter

My mouth is slack with pain

My fists tied down, tightly clenched

The torture has only just begun

My body fights to find an inner strength

The needles pierce the back of my neck

I am held in place, too weak to struggle

I try to call out for mercy

I am ready to confess anything

The needles enter my skull

There are hundreds of them

The prison is too bright for me to see

Shadowy figures surround my body

Slowly I feel the needles draining my veins

I try to release the bindings on my limbs

They use my body as a pincushion

I have no more strength to fight

I can feel the weakness take over

My mind tries to fight, to shout

I open my eyes 

I stare into blinding white light

The needles in my skull blind me

Bile rises up from my empty insides

I search for the unseen enemy

These faceless soldiers dealing in torment

I open my eyes and see a figure before me

It looks familiar, a faint echo of disbelief

The reflection is myself

My very flesh the rack of agony

I lose hope, I lose the battle against my skin and bone

My body is my battleground, my flesh the enemy torturing me

*Published online in Undead Poets Society, August 9, 2010 by last_lines

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Advertisements

Come on over to the Dark Side...Say hello

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s