Shrieking, a banshee twitching
And foam is forming in her mouth,
Trying to beg with a broken tongue,
Old words now bitter cries and groans.
They keep their promise and comfort her,
A drip to weaken agony's choking grip
On a body clothed in decaying death mask attire;
Her mind trapped inside and so alive
With no hope but one escape.
Love always wears the strangest costumes,
This one a solemn funeral suit,
Torn, they let the drip set her free
Like a rabid dog, a f ucking dog.
