A poem describing the exploitation of a good guy by a girl. |
Go to the machine to buy more tokens, Without them you can’t have your fun. You’ve found a new play-thing And you stroke him with your lioness’s paw. He feels the distant knife-edge of claws But thinks nothing of it. He’s a wind-up toy, But then aren’t we all when it comes to you? With this new realisation and this new poison, You’ve found a way to act out your twisted dreams. Riding on the knowledge that he like to curl up in your arms And fall asleep beside you. He’ll say what you like when you pull his string And he won’t even notice you now own the machine. You can feed him more whenever you choose. He’s jingling with tokens tonight. He tells you he loves you And he puts his arms around you to hold you close. He won’t remember this tomorrow morning But you will and you’ll smile. Act out whichever play you choose Because he’s so far gone now he won’t even notice. Come on now, it’s time to untie him. Let him go and break your hold, Because your poison’s become his heroin And he’ll never stop unless you do. He’s not your clay to mould into shape. That string of his you pull isn’t meant to be. He has a heartbeat and he bleeds, And thanks to you he doesn’t even know it. You’ve taken his memory And his perception of the world And left him a smiling doll on your lap, Smothering you in drunken kisses And making you feel so very special. |