He Vs Me
I’m just a coffee-eyed princess that loves the attention,
The kind you never get from good deeds.
I just love the electric-touch of his bloody fingertips,
Stained with the effects of sadomasochism.
And it is still not my crimson lust that floods his mouth,
It is not my frail shell of a girl that he holds in his arms.
Because to him I’m just another pretty face, a stranger amongst the crowd,
I do not tip-toe through the folds of his brain at midnight,
And I do not remind him of red roses when I am on my knees in front of him.
Begging, pleading for him to notice my struggle,
Hands perched in a position to catch the eyes of the elders,
And maybe have them question the holy order itself.
I could cut his masculine heart out and have a feast,
And the girl he notices still wouldn’t be me.
I’m sinking deeper into the flood,
And even though I seem totally water-proof and calm in the storm,
Even though I seem invincible,
Really I’m just invisible.
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