Martydom is not gentle
It's a bleak, quiet room
With a cold, metal bath
Skin and filthy water
The walls are stark white
The floors are all stained
Blood drying in the corners
In hair and under nails
No questions asked,
No answers given
A martyr ascends elsewhere
Where the world is all color
And her irises shine without hunger
A martyr will smile
For the ones locking the door

Written June 2022

Based on the movie Martyrs, a classic.

Take me back.

Take me home.