"condescending" poems
Found myself at a dental clinic...
He was the best there was.
Unorthodox and eccentric,
But to the specialised craft, he was boss.
Ran through the bits and bobs
Like any normally would.
The poking and prodding and the mandible X-rays.
Everything cold and clinical, so was the mood.
Strange was what happened next...
Specialist and I then stood facing each other.
He leaned close and pressed his palms against my rib cage.
Held them there over a few breaths before it was over.
Then a brief chat, small talk initiated by the man.
Bespectacled and exceedingly chatty, small in stature.
Talks of politics and odd human behaviours...
What started off as friendly turned into a heated banter.
I then realised that along with his decorated credentials,
Was his propensity to be condescending and arrogant.
Him being the best, I thought I could let it all slide,
But soon enough I opted out of being a willing participant.
Couldn't stand his abrasive cockiness!
I snapped out of being cordial and passive thought.
I wanted him to just stop talking!
I went, "Well, are you going to fix my teeth or not?!"
He was stunned momentarily...
I suppose he hadn't seen that coming.
Then his features softened to a blank
I could almost read the unspoken words he was conjuring.
With an exasperated sigh of resignation,
He uttered his next words swollen with regret
"There's no need...for you only have four years left."
It dawned upon me that my timer has been set.
And then I woke up...
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Life is a beautiful condescending labyrinth of emotions. Some of us just get mixed up in between it all.
Feeling nothing.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
I'm stressed, I'm angry,
They don't understand,
The rage that burns within me,
The fury in my veins.
"It's adolescent thinking,
That rush in your brain,
The twitching of your fingers,
The scorching of your heart."
Yet they don't seem to see,
With their condescending eyes,
That the feelings trapped within me,
Are more than adolescent.
The rage I feel to ****
The need for blood to spill,
The coating of metallic liquid,
Over my pristine knuckles.
To them I'm very simply,
A 'normal adolescent',
And my fury will flee,
When I finally mature.
But I can see it in their eyes,
The suppressed demons that they hide,
Away from the public eye,
From their 'adolescent' years.
So until I'm what they call 'mature',
I'll just have to stay,
Angry, uncontrollable,
And simply adolescent.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
Darkness.
Laying here, alone
weary
empty
I've withdrawn into
deep shadows
I can't see the pain
but your voice,
your condescending rage
rattles against my cage.
I've never understood
you...I blame the drink
for randomly possessing
your eyes
seeing me as a target.
I don't know what to
expect.
physical or mental
it's all torment.
I'm sick of walking
on the eggshells which litter
that fabric which we used to
lay on
together.
Now I hide from you,
from your demons that can't find me
in my darkness.
Darkness.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
Your first position of power
Feeling you don't get the respect
You think you deserve
I almost pity you
Treating us like dogs
But with a guise of politeness
"Ma'ams" and "pleases" can't hide your contempt
Your patronizing tone washes it all away
Doctors bark at you, you say?
Patients don't respect you?
Poor you, you deserve the world
Right, try being us for a day
Your lying mouth never stops
Complaining, explaining
As if we're completely ignorant
As if we can fix your problems
Your favorite activity
The one at which I roll my eyes
Is telling us how much you hate
The profession YOU chose
Perhaps you're just upset
That all our young minds
Can change our paths
Nothing for us is set in stone
Condescending, you sneer
"I am your boss"
***** you've been here
Less time than I have
What gives you the right
To judge these people?
Sure, they're self-entitled
Demanding and belittling
But have you looked in the mirror lately?
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 10:44 AM UTC
It's that time of the Patriot's year
Postseason playoff games are in full gear
The road to the Superbowl, I cheer
But not for the big, bad grissly bear
That takes every opponent's fate without fear
That's right the big bad bear without peer
I'm snickering the Patriot's to cry a tear
Nothing would make me so happier, I swear
Fricken, dicken, bitchen Patriots beware
To see another Bostonian tea party, I glare
I do show respect at the Patriot's lair
Brady and Belicheck what a podded pair
Steady, stoic and simulcast, condescending I declare
You see a Patriots playoff loss is so rare
Their team profile is beyond compare
A well oiled machine that wear
Goliath close over David with regular fare
The road to this year's Superbowl Sunday, I say a prayer
That the other teams flag is flying patriotically in the air
Logan Robertson
1/11/2019
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 5:05 AM UTC
In the worst of times, martyrs will march barefooted into foreign lands
To toil its earth with flesh and sweat and blood
They jaunt north to south searching for milk and honey
and gold coins to put in their empty pockets
They stop to find out that they cannot walk barefooted
For the road is nothing but thorns and hot sand that scorch the feet
The merciless air is aloof and condescending
These people, they suffered
for their skin cracks in the winter and burns in the rain
Their tongue aches from speaking a different language:
voices turned into an unfathomable cadence
Frail skin torched like a hot tar to tissue paper
leaving only blackened soot
They come home with a dry mouth and scarred heart
These heroes will look up above into the cold night sky
to look for inkling of stars that guided them
For there is nothing sweeter than to bring food back home
To where hungry mouths and empty hands suffer in pain
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
I see the purpose now
Those who use insecurities
Those who are condescending
They only put fear into their coffee
A fear that someone will see the world's opportunity
Bitterness has never been fact nor reality
Their statements will never be anymore, always less stability
Turn their sentences into silence and keep smiling
Never let someone's weakness destroy your happy
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
For every
condescending syllable,
that has slipped out of
your.
Serpent like tongue.
Wish I could
squash you with my
black leather boots
&
watch you squirm.
&
Gasp for air.
Like I have done,
so many times before
your black-hole-eyes.
But, that wouldn't be the Christian thing to do.
Good thing. I got excommunicated.
Now, suffer.
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 7:04 PM UTC
I dream of a society
Where the ideals of beauty
Are less focused on superficial concepts like one's waistline
Or how decrepit their smile lines made them appear
But rather one where the focal point of unanimous adoration is,
As corny as this may sound,
One's morals and where they land on the gradient of human compassion
In this utopia,
The elderly aren't seen as catalysts for repugnance and a wrinkling of noses
But rather as symbols of eruditeness and beauty
The type of beauty that influence or money can't obtain
And it may be conceivable that instead of wasting my days squandering over my physical appearance,
I can just fritter away the days
Strumming my ukulele along to the tune of my American dream
For I have yet to actually awaken from my adolescent slumber
Breifly enough to grasp my dream from the bubble floating above my resting head
And nestle it securely in my pocket
So it doesn't forgo me
In search of someone less complacent with bewilderment about their future
Who dreams of social and economic prosperity
Instead of someone who's apathetic at best about whatever career choice they've chosen for the week
Maybe that's just it
That maybe I don't want the conventional American dream of fame or fortune or recognition
Is it feasible that maybe my American dream isn't to rise from sqaulor into a soulless mansion
Whose corridors boast success
But lack warmth and presence?
I suppose that my American dream encompasses more than just America itself
It lives in the eyes of every human being on the face of the earth
It's nestled in the gaze of a starving child
And the stare of anyone who's ever felt a tongue's razor edge
And all I'd have to do is delve into their eye sockets and plant a seed
A seed of hope and compassion
Or whatever I deem fit
Perhaps I just want to shield myself
From the world's disapproving glances,
Those fleeting moments of eye contact that convey condescending judgement
Maybe I'd just like to make a difference to things sans the media’s snide opinion
But despite my juxtaposition to society's critical assessments,
I know that I can't run away from my fears or problems
So maybe I dream of a society
Where I can remain headstrong even in the face of opposition
Because I'm aware that not everyone's going to love each other
And spout sweet nothings about peace and understanding from their hind quarters
So maybe I'd like to help be a driving force
That wards off the world's shadows
So the sun can continue to shine on my American dream
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
My shoelaces flap side to side like one of those car-dealership inflatables arms-
My veiny stompers pump puddles of pure procrastination from perceptive sprinting-
Underneath the tune-buds, I cannot hear my sneakers scraping the scrap rocks of gravel-
To my left- a hooting owl habitats itself in a hushed game of charades-
To my right- a slick tree frog flies freely from a lofty leaf and lands in the lagoon-
Elapsed images of elastic languages fill my mind with everlasting wisdom-
Entertained by the watercolors, my canvas curdles and secedes the state of mind-
Pressing harder- the curtain continues to close as I chase the condescending daylight-
Pressing softer- the tuner in my temple turns into a terrorizing shriek from my tibia-
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
You wish for me to put in words
What I have to say
Like the answers that I've given
On their own
Could never relay
They come and go
Touch on fate
Dissipate and replicate
The disingenuous nature
That you frequently necessitate
Extend your olive branch
Then act like you feed me
When the branches are famished
Needy, condescending and deceiving Conceiving that I'm the villain
When I don't respond to how you react
Like you could perpetuate in me
The supposition for your tact
The fact that you lack any original clarity
Is the reason I'd never reach to you
Like I was Seraphim
The simple reason
That I'm writing all of this
Is simply just to prove to you
That I don't have to convince
I don't have to persist
Rehash, then reminisce
Like treading through faded memories with you
Will satiate my daily fix
I resist
Because I know exactly where I'm headed And you insist because that truth
Is what keeps us separate
Every second
You playcate on a pretense
When your intentions are crystal clear
And I can't provide that service
Or serve that purpose
While I'm standing here
To be perfectly honest
I never promised you anything
All I did was sigh and reply
To how your heart would so readily sing
Then you project your insecurities
Directly to my face
As if I was the one who gave them rise
Within the first place
Protecting your manipulations
While contemplating your motives
Are exactly the reasons we're done
Before we even started
I'm sick of being a punching bag
For someone acting devoted
And now it's been denoted
I've written you off, this story is done
This time you're in the subject line
Because you are truly NOT the one
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 12:45 AM UTC
You people never took me seriously
For you, I was just a problem child
Who needed to be molded
According to your whims and fancies
You never saw me as an individual
Who has his own thoughts, feelings and emotions
My opinions never mattered to you
You wanted me to improve my verbal communication
As well as my body language
But you never even tried to understand me properly
It never occurred to you
That there is a reason why I am different
Or even if it did, you never truly cared
What bothered me the most, though
Was the fact
That you believed you were acting in my best interests
Of course, it was my mistake
Not to leave this accursed country
While I had the chance
And seek my fortunes elsewhere
A mistake I may probably regret
For the rest of my life
Anyway, as Arabella Figg once said
"There's no good crying over spilt potion"
I was a fool to listen to you
But I have progressed in life
Far more than you would've expected me
And not because of you
But in spite of you
Well, I would love to meet you one of these days
And prove to you
That verbal communication is overrated
Just like you yourselves are
We autistic people can do equally well, if not better
As compared to you neurotypicals
Who are obsessed with correcting others
Well, please look into the mirror
And just leave us alone
Worse than an enemy, is an NT with a saviour complex
Well, we can see right through you
You may think you are being kind and empathetic
However, in reality, you are just a bunch of condescending wankers
Who believe they are always right
Well, there is nothing wrong in having your own views
Just try not to force them down our throats
I will end on this note
Autistic people are human beings too
It is time you learned to appreciate that
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 12:37 AM UTC
Sometimes when I look at myself
all I can see is
ugly
worthless
****
I learned this from you.
You taught me that nothing I ever did was good enough
not for you
or anyone else
I would never be enough
Most importantly, you taught me what love is
That to love someone
I have to give away everything I am
my confidence
my body
my self-worth
until I am only an empty shell of a person
so they can hold power over me
Sometimes
when I can’t find these pieces of me
I can see your face
contorted with rage
insistent, pleading until I obey
or
smirking, condescending
I can hear your voice
*you can’t wear that, you look like a ****
I’m the only one who really loves you
*I did it for you, you owe me*
I don’t owe you anything.
I taught myself how to love who I am
Reassembling all the pieces that you stole from me
took everything I had but
I am beautiful.
I am loveable.
I am worth something.
No one can ever change that.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
I don't have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.
I'll stay away from Yellowstone.
If one's asthmatic in the Eifel region
You don't pronounce the "P."
This won't **** me.
I don't have COPD.
Everyone coughs in blue smoke.
My throaty itch won't **** me.
I won't constrict and choke.
I don't have an infectious disease,
Despite my personality.
I run for shelter in acid rain.
I drink water with ice cubes,
And spray my green out back.
As much as I hate to, I avoid rusty nails.
*** is safe... and at a distance.
Despite being repeatedly told to,
I never eat ****
The great imitator
Is a snivelling mime.
If I'm bitten, I recognize the marks.
The erupting of the ring of fire won't **** me,
but perhaps I was precocious
To drop the "P" in
Pneumonoultramicroscopicscilicovolcanoconiosis.
I haven't succumb to animal flues,
I stay clear from the bars.
I donate to the SPCA,
Bet on ponies or the odds of SARS.
I don't have meningitis.
I like lights and loud music.
If I get the night sweats,
I turn down my electric blanket.
I haven't the minor or greater pox,
I spurn comparisons.
According to the scoop and scope,
I ascend and descent C free.
But the time spent on Referrals
Might be the death of me.
I don't have botulism.
My smile still concaves down.
Curling convex above it,
A condescending frown.
I'm not a *****
I feel every poke and like.
My digits number twenty...
Twenty one.
My glasses are smudge free.
If anything I see too well.
Alcoholism can't **** me.
Alcohol can.
I haven't cardio entropy,
But I'd be remiss
To dismiss
The wise counsel Oz gave me:
"Hearts can never be made practical until they can be made unbreakable."
So true.
So true!
Anyway, none of the above will get me.
But, I do have what you have.
The young and grown.
The able and ill.
A hand.
A sweeping hand.
A second hand
Setting those infectious nonogerms
Like diamonds
In my Time-x.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
The world is not complex
People just say it is to hide their bull **** excuses for self justification
Let us give them our admiration for their condescending inspiration
Lonely is fun when your enticingly crazy
Never entirely board when your consumed in self argumentative rambling
A gesture I call exciting
I don't deny the chaos erupting from my skulls siding
Nor should anybody
I have a tendency of getting delighted the moment I put my animosity on display
It's kind of like my you have a "blessed day"
Yes I'm ok
I have daily meetings with the counselor in my head and he
said this is progress
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
oh, lovely –
another of my ugly insecurities has come undone –
unraveling from my heart, tumbling across the space between us,
ungainly in its amble towards your feet.
if i’m sorry, will that be too little? if i perform an even bigger act of affection
(not always only for compensation)
will that be too much?
was it too much the last time?
as you watch me scramble for words, for explanations,
for comprehension of my own actions,
are you sick of me?
does it make your stomach turn to see my flaws? it sure does make mine.
i can’t tell you 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 without lying
that 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.
anyway, would you like some tea while we watch this show?
this tragedy of errors on an endless timeline?
anything else to make your experience better?
am i condescending when i ask for concern? is it fun to battle my quiet anger with your quiet neglect?
i’m sorry, maybe i assume too much. actually, i’m sure i do.
it’s so humiliating to find meaning in everything even when i know better.
oh, lovely –
yet another insecurity.
Jun 28, 2022
Jun 28, 2022 at 1:47 PM UTC
_A monkey's wedding:_ our elders told us
it was, each time it rained with the sun out.
Pink skies, white clouds, golden tears and
the good times of being young.
Tree climbing to touch the sky as high,
fruit picking, and stone skipping at turbid puddles,
The smell of after rains, wet grounds, dew tear drops;
all at the nights condescending condensation.
Chasing rainbows on rumours of Peter pan's hidden
treasures at the end. As a guileless manner supposed.
Sunlight creeping through cracks of clouds,
the remainder of light showers, reminisced in the mud.
Sculptures we'd try our best to carve,
playing house outside, under the upcoming sun,
And trying our best at reciting parent's love.
Tell me have you seen anything as beautiful,
as the beauties after the rain?
Jul 15, 2022
Jul 15, 2022 at 4:57 PM UTC
**All Hours of the Night
That range of time is too random
to be alone in the dark with yourself
It's the loneliest time to think you over
because like the sweetest stanza
of the prettiest poem no one will ever read;
we were pointless
If I can recall
you said so yourself
My faith in the possibility had been exhausted
My heart...
I've since changed the lock
with no bother about a spare key
Sounds like some slick ****
a poet assigned to you would say
I found a reasoning you should try yourself...
I trust nothing;
I know me too well
to believe I can talk myself into getting over you
You must be proud of yourself
the way you get all up in me right under my nose
My defenses though... just in case
My personality splits
All Hours of the Night
I captain this hook
and refuse to pardon heartbreakers
with three strikes at love
I rob in the hood
I'll take everyone for everything
and give anything I can get away with to you
Those are my instincts
There's nowhere to go to get around yourself
I work like a fool
but when the struggle rises above my head
I learn to swim again
What's a synonym for dope boy
Started as a runner
Stick up kids out to tax
when bust your gun
is all you've got going for yourself
Around and around
and I hate that I love your badside
All Hours of the Night
By the rim of your ears
and nape of your neck
To the point of your *******
and past your belly's button
Until my mouth found your flower's fruit
and sipped its juice;
Until your *** was trickling down my chin
I wanna lick you senseless
Imagine that...
I thought you were ready
but knew about the clause in your description denouncing heavy lifting
And our love was like dead weight back when
At least there's that...
I'd have to eat the blame one way or the other
I've seen you zing it from your index finger
at everyone but yourself
You ain't for this life
A mountain lion
would knaw off it's leg to escape capture...
Is that a chill or a phantom sensation
All Hours of the Night
You were on some other **** yourself
The way you captained this hook
and made me wanna pardon heartbreakers
with three strikes at love
Those are your instincts;
Never trick where you lay your head
Keep your family close and your haters closer
Improve yourself
Progress
Prevail
And money before good ****
Sounds like some slick ****
a demon assigned to a poet would say
in the condescending tone
you've owned
since the very first frame
I found a reasoning you should try yourself...
I trust nothing
You must be proud of yourself**
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
With hands steady,
Sinister Syntax
Guided me
To haughty
Nonconformity.
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 10:39 PM UTC
I am a puddle in the ocean
Blended in a blue dream
With wandering waves
That capsize in captivity
Condescending from freedom
I am a puddle in the ocean
Struggling to stay calm
In this vicious storm
As the wind is whirling
Whipping my family around
I am a puddle in the ocean
Lost in space like a star
Wishing I could shine
Like the ferocious flame
Of the sun's searing rays
I am a puddle in the ocean
Drowning in earths tears
Shed from the sorrow
Of all the pain in the world
That never washed ashore
I am a puddle in the ocean
Fighting to stay afloat
Holding on to a rope
With a grip that's groping
But safety is far from sight
I am a puddle in the ocean
Tired of being tortured
By tricks of the truth
Seeking to expose them
With a splash of sunshine
I am a puddle in the ocean
Looking to ride a wave
One that will carry me
Far away from the storm
To be soaked up by the sun
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
In my home city of Dhaka, there is an abundance of bananas. Their sickly sweet aroma hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the stench of human toil and chemical wastes to produce the true odor of despair. The lives of these bananas are relatively short. They start off in a poor farmer’s tree, dragged to market in a broken-down truck, and sold at a cut-throat price to the vendor. In a well-rehearsed play, vendor and consumer haggle over bruised bananas. The tired consumer brings the bananas home and hangs them in the kitchen where cockroaches stalk empty cupboards.
The next day, we, the children, will carry the bananas in empty lunch boxes to school. Together, we will sit through vapid lectures, tailored to make the clock tick slower. Not once will the teacher pause to encourage us to achieve. During lunch, we will devour our bananas with unwashed hands. Despite our best efforts, we will be corralled into our parents’ lives and become the next generation of factory workers and office clerks.
Sometimes though, a child manages to get a glimpse into the other world. I was fortunate enough to be one of these children. One afternoon, my father came into our tiny living room with a smile on his face and an object protruding from his shirt pocket. He told me that he had a special present for me. With a practiced flourish, he took out an orange from his worn shirt. My eyes widened with amazement.
To me, oranges were objects only celebrities and corrupt politicians could afford. They were luxury items, myths seen on television. Yet here I was, nothing extraordinary, holding a real orange in my palm. Slowly I peeled the orange, feeling my old impoverished self peel away simultaneously. As I tasted the first tangy slice, I heard the shackles of the banana chain fall. It was then that I truly felt that I had the power to become anything I wanted. That day, I was liberated from the vicious banana cycle.
From that day forward, I looked for positive events in my life, for signs of hope and change. One day, I saw my strict, condescending teacher discreetly hand an orange to a classmate whose family was unemployed. For the rest of the day, the child stood a little taller. For that day, he was no longer living in a destitute environment, but residing in the warmth of human nature.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
1244
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown
In Chrysoprase Apartments hung
This afternoon put on—
How condescending to descend
And be of Buttercups the friend
In a New England Town—
2.5k
Your eyes, bringing despise, continue to pierce me
With their glowing incompetence
And fluttering instances of jealousy.
Your thoughts continue to reach me
With their condescending demeanors
That strike with utter prosperity.
Your hatred continues to elude me
With its striking usage
And power that proves deadly.
Once, just once, I know you can only wish
To wrap your hands around my neck
And squeeze until my breath has been abolish'd.
Once, just once, I know you can only pretend
To plunge the pencil into my chest
And apply pressure until my beating comes to an end.
Once, just once, I know you want to violate me
And, once, just once, I may allow
Your reaching desires to overpower me
Once, just once, I will see your anger
As you wrap your hands around me and decree,
"I'm only putting us out of our misery."
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC