To commiserate and lament
One’s wretched enslavement
With the very captor who tends to one’s bonds
Is to indulge in self effacement,
The tragic engagement
Of assailant
With the victim
They wreak hell upon.

Yet, still,
False heaven exists
In fleeting moments of vague acceptance,
In which I feel my flattery
Has you pleased.
I shudder with the deliverance
Of the sparse and scarce evidence
That you have even meager
Belief in me.

The captive adores her keeper
When the only grounding beneath her
Is the ****-sodden earth
Of many well-turned deceits.
The kept girl festers
Unaware of her constraints
When she so blindly
Kisses the hand which beats.