Her innocence a laughing matter.
Usual chatter among men
who befriend her with ulterior
aspirations aimed at the interior.
How fickle the mind becomes
sitting next to its heart
still struggling to stand
within their contrived hands.
With every invite accepted,
the plan becomes ever simple:
They connect dots with her freckles
whilst complementing her dimples.
They grab and slap her ass.
Her pretentious laugh creeps out
until reminded of her past.
Now she's left to think about
where she may have lost herself
and how far back she must trace
in some lost hope of saving face.
She was taught to hide her fault.
Inadequate the sullen seductress.
Her will once fully honed
is no longer her own
when thrown against the wall
like the least of clothes worn.
Disproven are her stints of independence.
No country for the headstrong.
Told her she'd never last alone;
but few men would ever want
what most have prodded through.
Tossed about with little doubt
that she has a right to refuse.
Abused by big, brown eyes
and the broadest of shoulders…………
self-proclamed servants of mothers
that she playfully called "Big Brother"
that would love when kid sister
is forced to call them "Mister."
No concern to kiss her tears away.
A little less fear today.
Just moments of humiliation.
Asphyxiation of the worst degree:
A smile for all to see
mixed with laughter and cheerful banter.
Enchanter of the wholesome
hearts that know nothing of the lonesome
lines that mar the countenance
she has strategically hidden from the world.
Unfurled in silence after violent encounters.
Makeup on the counter
strewn between garments torn
that were worn to entice.
Her penalty.
Her penance.
Her price of admission
for guilt to remain trapped
beneath quilts eventually as stained
as the pain that coats her face.
The strain of tracing lines
atop the scars of shame unspoken.
Somewhat sufficient mask until broken.
Never chosen for her favor
unless her labor incites pleasure.
Treasure no one ever claims.
Trapped and throttled.
Marked and maimed.
Famous for decrepit deeds
that serve only to sow seeds
that are stamped out before bloom.
Whispers in a crowded room.
Her innocence a laughing matter.
Fashioned her the frequent punchline.
They fit her into time lines
for the sake of story telling;
sparking interest and intrigue.
Beleaguered with rumors that surface.
Left to succumb and forsake her purpose
before she ever truly learns it.
She now believes she's earned this.
She no longer fights to see
through this nightmare she calls her dream.
In her silence, she still screams.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
[Words]{About}(Her)
the plan becomes ever simple:
They connect dots with her freckles
whilst complementing her dimples.
They grab and slap her ass.
Her pretentious laugh creeps out
until reminded of her past.
Now she's left to think about
where she may have lost herself
and how far back she must trace
in some lost hope of saving face.
She was taught to hide her fault.
Inadequate the sullen seductress.
Her will once fully honed
is no longer her own
when thrown against the wall
like the least of clothes worn.
Disproven are her stints of independence.
No country for the headstrong.
Told her she'd never last alone;
but few men would ever want
what most have prodded through.
Tossed about with little doubt
that she has a right to refuse.
Abused by big, brown eyes
and the broadest of shoulders…………
self-proclamed servants of mothers
that she playfully called "Big Brother"
that would love when kid sister
is forced to call them "Mister."
No concern to kiss her tears away.
A little less fear today.
Just moments of humiliation.
Asphyxiation of the worst degree:
A smile for all to see
mixed with laughter and cheerful banter.
Enchanter of the wholesome
hearts that know nothing of the lonesome
lines that mar the countenance
she has strategically hidden from the world.
Unfurled in silence after violent encounters.
Makeup on the counter
strewn between garments torn
that were worn to entice.
Her penalty.
Her penance.
Her price of admission
for guilt to remain trapped
beneath quilts eventually as stained
as the pain that coats her face.
The strain of tracing lines
atop the scars of shame unspoken.
Somewhat sufficient mask until broken.
Never chosen for her favor
unless her labor incites pleasure.
Treasure no one ever claims.
Trapped and throttled.
Marked and maimed.
Famous for decrepit deeds
that serve only to sow seeds
that are stamped out before bloom.
Whispers in a crowded room.
Her innocence a laughing matter.
Fashioned her the frequent punchline.
They fit her into time lines
for the sake of story telling;
sparking interest and intrigue.
Beleaguered with rumors that surface.
Left to succumb and forsake her purpose
before she ever truly learns it.
She now believes she's earned this.
She no longer fights to see
through this nightmare she calls her dream.
In her silence, she still screams.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
[Words]{About}(Her)
No comments:
Post a Comment