Nate, the slicerA Poem by T.S. Ulmus
Nate was a slicer
A real-world dicer of flesh If you mess with the wrong people Nate would come to see you With his bag of pain kept stained rags in there too To muffle the screams And stifle the dreams Of any piece of flesh Tied up before him Restore them to Glory Bless them with innocence It made perfect sense A Renaissance of the gory Rebirth through agony Nate was a bladed priest Bringing them to feast On the pain Of their own salvation People fell to temptation And he made them bleed So they could feed on their sin The ugliness within Nate carved away Through his victims' muffled screams For him it was play Though he would pray As he sliced And delivered their last supper © 2021 T.S. UlmusAuthor's Note
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7 Reviews Added on February 16, 2021 Last Updated on February 17, 2021 AuthorT.S. UlmusBennet, NEAboutI try to swerve into a curve that's not rutted by the thoughts of others while clearing the obstacles of the mundane. I like receiving read requests for poetry, but... ya know, good stuff. more..Writing
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