1809

The curvaceous of my body the spirit of my soul The lust in his eyes as his true nature unfolds The rise of my chest and the fall of my breasts As I lay on my back to suffer what comes next Hands that ravish the temple that is mine No respect for my skin or the pleasure it provides The pain that is caused will always be inscribed In the corpse of my body in the memory that is time I should know it so well for the trouble that it brings In the cycle that continues which ends in baby things The innocence in their existence is ironic to me They bring me such joy yet in torment were conceived Never ending is the deed that no one may name No one dares acknowledge the survivors that remain Nor the damages it causes or what the Who's became In the nothing of space does the affair maintain An intake of breath is all it takes for him to spill The planting of his seed is for me to be still Never in his eyes do I look when I sink He will watch me drown and in those lakes he drinks I do not fight when he takes me nor do I scream Sadistic and sick,  he'll enjoy by all means Never ending is this assault, everyone is prey Forced is every curvaceous body,on their back will lay I am no different than the things that crawl Nor the body that is bruised in the out of a brawl I am no different than the vulnerable state of mind Nor the victims of this year or 1809.