But she died today, my love I say again.
It was a very quiet death, but loud did my ears deem.
Mutterings that seemed protestant, but pleasurable to me.
No, no she better love me, and enjoy our forced pleasure.
To neutralize my minute guilt to satisfy my pleasure.
She was my love is what I said, she was my love again.
Even though she said no, my love i say again.
Her silent pleas, and sqeaking cries for my guilty ears rang loud.
So harder and harder the cloth on her mouth, because I was too proud.
She will not reject me, or push away my hand.
Love in her eyes diminish, like a sieve and sand.
She was my love of lust I say, she was my love again.
But now she's gone where'd I go wrong?
Death to all rapists.
Oblivioneyes-slave to poetry.




Paradise Patriarch






