Uit Wandering Spirits

Attack

Eyes shut tight and lips half open

Arms locked tight upon your back

Chains restricting all your movements

Ready for the first attack

Body scrubbed and neatly shaven

Trembling under every whack

But still standing at attention

Waiting for the next attack

Pushed and shoved from corner to corner

Bent in stocks, stretched on the rack

Pulled apart and pried wide open

You undergo a new attack

And when the tears roll down jour face

And welts and bruises cover your back

Finally your screams for mercy

Hold me off my last attack

It is time for comfort....

Frodo