The Cult of Apathy

Press, puncture, pain,
Slide, drag, tear,
Flesh opened as a lane,
Blood flowing in crimson glare.

Shudder, gasp, shake,
Drip, drop, pool,
As again the flesh is raked,
Ruby drops on the floor cool.

Ache, angst, agony,
Whisper, weep, worship,
Yes worship one who will never see,
The bleeding adoration in every blades slip.

Despair deepening drives,
The burning, blistering, and bleeding,
And even many to end their lives,
Poised by sorrows serpentine sting.

Hearts bleed easily,
And life too precious to be,
Thrown away so carelessly,
But how few will see,
Till 'tis to late for sorry,
The flow is to free,
Unable to be stymied with such paltry gauss,
Death an outcome, and the cause?
'Tis the Cult of Apathy.