As thought turning the screws
Pain grips you inside
As though the needles
Prick your skin
And you can feel
That you`re real
It hurts so well
As cold, as warm
As hungry
As nourishing
You`re suffering
As if you were relishing it
As though you
Are nailed to the cross
As though they pour
Boiling slops all over you
And you can feel
That you`re real
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