Torturer
My hands have become something to fear.
If you touch me, will I melt?
Or will you crumble away?
Pain. Pain is all I am good for.
Don't.
Touch.
Me.
I write to release but the burden will crush you.
Look! Everyone else has fled
Far away for a reason.
You come ever closer but, please, be wary
Of my scorched and rotting hands.