Helpless

As I stare at this little cut on my finger,
I think of how the night's just been.
You lost your bet with your friend Death.
It's a bet you're not meant to win.

I smirk at this small, painless wound
And compare it to the wounds you have now.
With your skull full of nails and your lungs full of screws
I must resist from taking a bow.

My best work, I must admit.
A beautiful and sick work of art.
I think that your head looks best off your neck
And I had much fun re-arranging your parts.

You scream at my face
Yours contorted with fear.
And it pains me to see that you always blame me.
I'm as helpless a you are here.

((A/N: Tah-dah! I had much fun writing this, and then showing as many people as possible. It makes me laugh to see their eyebrows shoot up!))