Sticks penetrate my skin
pushing past my taut muscles
and searing into my bones,
twisting and wharping my veins
along the way.

My friends have the audacity
to throw stones at me,
bruising the ****** holes
where the sticks reached into my soul.

What is left of me?
I'm asking you because I am
blinded.

What do you see?

A heap.

A pile of bones that look like
a bundle of sticks tied together
with muscles strained and stretched
from the torturous stones.