what do you know of pain
that you should speak so lightly of it,
and how are you qualified to offer
an easy prescription, a macho platitude?
i think, perhaps, you glib ones have not tasted
the dry mouth torment that comes by day
or the cold that slips into your
bed at night and teases you from sleep
you, who do not know of pain and things less pleasant,
should i take you under my dark wing
tutor you with tomes of torment,
preach to you the paradise of paraphilias?
i doubt it would do either of us any good
you would, inevitably, be corrupted and i would, ultimately,
be bored
but still, there is a deeply buried part of me
a sniveling, sinister voice inside my soul
that urges me to hurt you for no better reason
than to see the knowledge of pain blossom in your eyes
to see how long it would take you to discover that pain
is the one true thing that is better by far to give than to
receive
so now you think me a monster, an unrepentant demoniac
and trust me, you aren’t the first nor will you be the last
but i am just a man like any other, my only difference being
i have looked beneath the rock that you are too cowardly to
lift
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