Voltage (VERY DISTURBED POEM)

Where do I begin?
 
Well for starters, Welcome to the End.
 
You see I have you restrainted.
 
By leather and chains.
 
Sadly youre not my first victim.
 
To many re-call by now.
 
Anyways, here is what I plan on doing with you.
 
I've taken very special measures.
 
To make sure this is fun for both of us.
 
Well . . .  more for me really.
 
I'll start by giving you some rules.
 
First, dont try to struggle.  
 
what your strapped to is my favorite electric chair.
 
Please, make it easier for you.
 
I promise to keep you awake in time for the show.
 
Second, dont try to talk or scream.
 
Because it is useless to do so.
 
You can scream your lungs out for all I care.
 
It's not going to do shit.
 
Third, dont fall asleep.
 
Its rude to just sleep while someone is talking to you.
 
And if you sleep. . .
 
Ill simply cut your eye lids off slowly and as painfully as possilbe.
 
Oh and one more thing. . .
 
I would start praying to your non-exsistent god, right now.
 
Shall I explain to you what I plan to do to you?
 
Hmmm no response. . .
 
Good you follow rules.
 
Sadly this is going to hurt quite abit.
 
Lets start with a minimum of five minutes of DC.
 
Direct Current.
 
It wont kill you.
 
But will leave you in so much suffering.
 
As I flip the chair on, your body convulses.
 
With every wave after wave of electricity.
 
Coursing through your body.
 
Your extraments flow out of you.
 
Bladder gives.
 
Leaving you in your own body fluids.
 
Your screams are shear and dreadful.
 
I stop at the five minute mark.
 
To see you beg and plead for freedom.
 
The rule was not to speak.
 
You broke that rule . . .  
 
Now there will be no mercy.
 
No sympathy.
 
No forgivness.
 
I set the electric chair for AC.
 
Alternating Current.
 
This will be a swift death.
 
Time set for 30 minutes.
 
As I walk over to start the chair.
 
Your head lays low. . .
 
You are silently crying. . .
 
Weeping. . .
 
I walk over to you lifting your head.
 
A blissful kiss to the cheek.
 
And then I lite up your life.
 
Watching your body shake violently.
 
Uncontrollably.
 
Your body sizzles.
 
What you last see is a expressionless face.
 
Of the tormentor named.
 
Voltage. . .