Counting Footsteps

You count his footsteps slowly, Until he stumbles into the wall. Why don't he let you be? He gets up, and continues down the hall. One, two, three, four Hes ready for more. Five, six, seven, eight. Here he comes,hes late. Nine, ten, You start to hate men. Eleven, twelve He gives you hell. Hes at the door now. You cower away. How could he do this? How! In your bed he lays. That's when you start To block out whats about to happen. Here comes the worst part: You fight, but he wins.