You put hooks through my shoulders,
and hung me like a ham,
you cut and sliced and burned me,
and hacked out who I am.

And when I clambered down,
and sought a path anew,
I tried to hide but couldn't,
from the hooks in my sinew.

Is my pain from metal,
yet embedded in my flesh,
or is it just the memory,
that wounds me now afresh?

Someday I will be free,
of your hateful love's black chains,
at least I know for sure,
I'll not be hooked again.