Her body stares at me, craving all I lack
She's plain, white, and empty
The urge to fill her void, it excites me, I cannot deny that fact
My fingers linger, praying she rewards me with her love
Each day her number grows, thousands flock and stuff her box
They selfishly empty themselves, all hoping for some relief
But as the end draws near its clear to see
She gives out love to all that seek
But to win her heart you must tell
The darkest secrets of yourself
She waits for you in the blackened rooms
Eager for the thrusting of your fingers
To expose the inner self
You must be content that she will share it with someone else
So I fill her box almost every night, accepting this arraignment
There are times when my fingers ****** for hours
Yet, somehow, she can always take it
She never tells me about her pain
Instead decides to tell me stories
Of the others who have filled her box
The others who came before me