Self-flagellation: The Last Highway out of Hell

He whips himself, he whips himself very hard;

the silent screams breaking into an ugly grimace

The cat-o-nine-tails screams like a mad banshee;

the knots striking in a frenzy, a blood thirsty race

Each lash is dedicated to one specific memory;

a black hole in the whole black vast space of life  

Each stroke exposing a white pulsating nerve;

a silver snake writhing under a very sharp knife

He hurts himself, he hurts himself so real bad;

drawing crimson patterns across his naked back

Skin breaks and ruby drops appear one by one;

thickening, congealing, stinking and turning black

The flow of blood sometimes turns into a river;

drops changing into streams, streams into creeks

Crimson spattering all the walls and the ceiling;

tracing the paths of pain and punishment it seeks

 

He makes himself suffer; he suffers for very long;

feeling the whip slither in the stinking thick slush

The skin is no more, his back is all but raw flesh;

but the overpowering regret, the whip fails to crush

‘Oh! Why do you punish, why do you hurt yourself?’

the Devil asks him with a mockingly soft sympathy

And God….He just turns his face away in disgust;

there is no place for him in the great hall of empathy 

 

He walks the path of pain, he has chosen for himself;

he grips the whip firmly and he never lets go of it

He penalizes himself, passing each judgement harshly;

he condemns himself, the fire of misery is always lit

Self-flagellation is penance for sins so many or few;

it’s a dark journey and he’s been travelling since ever

Self-flagellation is the last highway out of his own hell;

yet his soul burns in agony, he stays unforgiven forever

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