As the cloth slips away,
She starts to pray.
What you see there,
Will it make you care?
Or will you run,
And find a gun
To shoot right here,
Into my heart, my dear.
I feel your eyes on my sides,
As they slip and slide,
All over and under,
As you shake me asunder.
And yet I ask, “do you see?”
I see burns and scars of the third degree.
Dare you trace the lines,
To learn the stories, which are mine?
Look closely as I trace my *******
The small supple lumps unlike the rest.
You see back in the day I was small and flat,
As they sneered and jeered and said “what is that?”
Trace the red lines down toward my inner thigh,
From the lonely night when I realized,
That never again would I be able to cry.
That night a small part of me did die.
If you dare to look to my southern most lips,
They tremble and quibble from the bites and the nips
Of a night spent pinned by a man’s embrace
And being forced open for pleasures not graced.
But if you glance at the hole in my chest,
Where a beating heart should rest
You’ll see that it has been taken
By a father whose love has been forsaken.
So tell me truthfully
Tell me quite deeply
Is this tortured naked body worth seeing?
Or shall you run fleeing?
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 7:27 AM UTC
As the cloth slips away,
She starts to pray.
What you see there,
Will it make you care?
Or will you run,
And find a gun
To shoot right here,
Into my heart, my dear.
I feel your eyes on my sides,
As they slip and slide,
All over and under,
As you shake me asunder.
And yet I ask, “do you see?”
I see burns and scars of the third degree.
Dare you trace the lines,
To learn the stories, which are mine?
Look closely as I trace my *******
The small supple lumps unlike the rest.
You see back in the day I was small and flat,
As they sneered and jeered and said “what is that?”
Trace the red lines down toward my inner thigh,
From the lonely night when I realized,
That never again would I be able to cry.
That night a small part of me did die.
If you dare to look to my southern most lips,
They tremble and quibble from the bites and the nips
Of a night spent pinned by a man’s embrace
And being forced open for pleasures not graced.
But if you glance at the hole in my chest,
Where a beating heart should rest
You’ll see that it has been taken
By a father whose love has been forsaken.
So tell me truthfully
Tell me quite deeply
Is this tortured naked body worth seeing?
Or shall you run fleeing?