La Douleur Exquise (Translation from French: Excruciating pain of wanting someone you can’t have)

They asked me what I worshipped –

I screamed your name.

They grabbed me by my hair,

shattered my wrists and ankles,

and they bound me to a chair.

 

They asked me who I worshipped –

I said your name.

Knives and matches pressed into my skin,

‘God’ was carved into my heart.

Could you not see?

They were tearing me apart.

 

They asked me how I worshipped –

I whispered your name.

With that, a gun was pulled to my head.

A smirk remained plastered because

 

the game had come to an end.

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