(Warning: This fictional poem is gruesome.)

I begged for mercy but they ignored my plea.
They took me to their house and tortured me.
They gave me third degree burns with a blow torch.
Over ninety percent of my body is scorched.

They cut off my fingers one by one.
I wanted to be dead by the time they were done.
When the sunrises in a couple of hours, I may no longer be alive.
That's okay by me because life might not be worth living if I survive.

Randy Johnson

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tortured-2/