The Disassemblers

This is about a short story Im writing of the same title. It actually follows a sylable pattern of decreasing and increasing by 3's. I didnt know what to categorize it under so I selected free verse. The Disassemblers In the cellar of divers sharpening rusted nails Service with a blood fermenting screech Forging sparks in the dark Just to see The world taken apart Don't save us For we are all damaged See the way that we all stand in rows And you have yet seen our most exquisite nightmare