I know how your skin feels like
the valleys and contours so treacherous
a bite won’t hurt, but can I ask for more?
For too much you would poison me

You hear the sound of my pleading
as your grip tightens on my soft skin
the moans of suffering that chokes
the life out of this helpless soul

I taste the sweetness of your cherry lips
only after my skin reddened from your beating
only when I feel no more
under the chains that only you commands

you’ll see me creeping, beg for more
not of your whipping but of mercy
as shadows leave the darkened hall
I lie dripping on the floor.


One thought on “Tyranny

  1. the object of your affection made you suffer like this? and i think that people want people to love them back, on equal terms. but that only happens sparingly. this is an idealised love.

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