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Apr 2015
I live in a box,
In a street I don't know,
I've never seen the sun,
Nor the rain,
And I've certainly never played in snow,

I was told by mother,
That I should never touch,
For I will break everyone,
With hands like mine so rough,

So I was always gloved and jacketed,
With socks until my knees,
But little did I know,
That my cause was not an ease,

Two men came at gunpoint,
And took my mother away,
I stayed alone in that box,
For weeks, not days,

Then sped far off from there,
Without my gloved and jacket and socks,
And touched someone I didn't know,
And killed them with my touch,

My heart raced as I realized,
What was the truth that I didn't know,
The fact that I was a succubus.

I didn't live with anyone,
For if I touched for more than 5 seconds,
He was dead,
So I left from there as well,
Until I met him at the end,

"My touch will ****" I said,
And yet he held my hand,
For more than 5 seconds I let it there,
And the man was still standing,

I looked up in surprise,
And said "Incubus",
Then he looked at me and said,
"We were meant for each other",

I had finally found another,
One male just like me,
We couldn't hurt each other,
So lived well,
Well and finally free.
Written by
Beatrice Prior  Gaborone, Botswana
(Gaborone, Botswana)   
679
   Beatrice Prior
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