My Gift of Death will be your only retreat
But not before I get the satisfaction that I seek
Things have not been done before like I will do to you
I guarantee you'll beg for death before I'm through with you
30 days of pain, a full month of fear
Everyday you will pray for the end to be near...
Your eyes will be sown open and a mirror placed in front of you
That you must look upon the hideous thing that I make of you
Your ears will be removed, torn off with much pain
The flesh removed, rolled, and stuffed in the holes that remain
I'll see to it that you watch though you are not permitted to hear
Your pitiful mind submerged in a silent-but-deadly fear
Your nose you may keep with only fish-hook alteration
That you may smell burnt flesh, hair,and the inevitable regurgitation
Starting on one hand I'll remove your nails with a pair of vice-grips
Then I'll need some vinegar in which to dip your finger tips
Like four little bananas your fingers will be peeled
For as long as you're conscience my attack shall not yield
I'll need to keep my torch at hand to cauterize your wounds
I wouldn't want you dying now escaping me so soon
Your thumb is still in tact but for that I have a plan
Simply tie it off with wire until it falls from your hand
For your other hand I'm going to need a needle and thread
It's to be sown to your chest and weighted with 10 pounds of lead
10 pounds is not that heavy though you can't hold it up forever
Your bicep will burn until it gives out all together
Flesh from your chest and hand will then tear bit by bit
You could ease the pain if you had the strength left to fight it
Now what's a good torturing without some broken bones
Shall I use a ball peen hammer or shall I opt for a stone
The instrument I choose will be applied to your foot
And I'll be smiling while I'm smashing until it's just a bag of mush
You'll need time to feel your pain so at this point I'll leave you
Hanging by one arm and I'll return in a day or two
Although I may not need them I'll bring weights just in case
To tie around your waist until your shoulder dislocates
If ever I get bored than perhaps just for fun
I will use your balls for target practice with my pellet gun
You know it won't end there I have a whole array of tools
Each one will be applied to a different part of you
When I am finished with your body there will not be much left
And if you ask really nicely I may grant My Gift of Death
A “Kevin Booth Original” Poem
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