Conquest
And in the morning he’ll regret
Bedding her for a stupid bet,
Taken on in a drunken haze;
Such are selfish teenage ways.
Whilst the girl, as she gets dressed,
Acknowledges the ease of his conquest
Accepting a truth she cannot duck
That to him she was just a meaningless f**k.
And when the lads meet up tonight
He’ll tell them that she didn’t put up a fight
Regret forgotten, he’ll stand and brag
Of how easy it was to screw that slag.
Crying herself, again, to sleep
In her shame and loneliness she’ll weep
For allowing herself again to be used.
Craving love, but settling for being abused.
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