Version 5: Poetry

It makes my blood boil
A nest of rats, such as her face
Squirming vermin gnash their teeth
Roundworms slide down pale
False skin flaps in the breeze.
Watery blue pools shine
Diluted and sickly they swirl
On a pus-filled surface
A balloon, bloated with lard
Boiling, rotting, diseased.
She makes my blood boil.

A little threat she made
I'd better be nice
Nobody can throw a chain on me
My blood boils higher
I must pledge respect, alligence
When none has been called back.
To give and not receieve
Is a greater gift
Yet, it makes me go insane.
It builds, and builds
Yet the weight
Will make my little mind
Snap.

It's a burning, a fire, just something
I can't hide.
Please help me, oh help me
I'm cracking, I'm snapping
Her voice in my head
Is killing me
Please help me, God help me
I'm gonna die.