T/His

To be touched against my will, does that make me his wh0re ?
To groom the wolf with bloody hands, does that make me his filth ?
To take the aching plunge below, does that make me his puppet ?
To lie immobilised with lusting terror, does that make me deserve this ruin ?

In time the blood stains dried, does that make me dirt forever ?
In vain my tears did fall, does that make me unheard ?
In between the lovely screams, does that make me crude siren ?
In flames my heart encaged, does that make me ashes of this day ?

Let him play with my insides, does this make me his glove puppet ?
Let this man have all and nothing, does this make me low-cost muck?
Let my body out for love, does this make me his nothing more ?
Let shame burn all the way, does this make me self confessed ?

T/His body reeks of blasphemy - potpourri of punishment,
T/His corpse stripped of skin - peel off dried in mud,
T/His little girl is silent now - hush muzzle in place,
T/His shiny treasure gone rusty - secret corrosion within,

Never to be t/his love,
Never to feel t/his love,
To always be t/his waste,
T/His love to always be, misplaced.