The mechanical whirr of the saw blade,
Keeps me on my focused goal.
Strapped to that cold steel table,
I feel fine,
Knowing I'll be shredded to bits,
By the emotional saw...
Swaying over me...
I look to both sides of my table,
And notice everyone is not watching...
But waiting for it to fall anyway...
I cannot break these chains,
My soul shrieks in pain,
And my wrists start to bleed,
From the pressure...
Sweat beads down my body...
The room is spinning...
Make it stop...
Please, I am begging you...
Tell them to turn the damned machine off...
I keep blinking my eyes,
This has to be a dream...
It's not...
Everything is cold...
From the steel table,
To the faces of the onlookers...
Ok...then if this it, I'm ready...
Let the blade fall...
Let it drop...
I turn to look as the same people,
Who were watching...
Were the same people who dropped the blade...