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scratches
Etch not unto her pliant flesh,
Cruel marks of your monstrous desire.
She bears your atrocities, with silent rage,
Her spirit, though wounded, never does tire.
Her body is not your canvas of pain,
Nor a vessel for your twisted delight.
In her heart, she carries...
Cruel marks of your monstrous desire.
She bears your atrocities, with silent rage,
Her spirit, though wounded, never does tire.
Her body is not your canvas of pain,
Nor a vessel for your twisted delight.
In her heart, she carries...
