I am a ******.
I force myself onto my poetry,
Even when it wants to be left alone.
I say no, to her no.

She’s the one who’s asking for it.
Walking all pretty, all alone,
Basically begging me to tear her clothes off.
I don’t need her permission.

After I do it, I cry.
I look myself in the mirror and wonder
Why do I do this, why?
I guess I’m just another monster.

The sad thing is
She always comes back for more.
She trusts me more than I do myself.
I don’t get why she does this to herself.