He Vs Me

I’m just a coffee-eyed princess that loves the attention, The kind you never get from good deeds. I just love the electric-touch of his bloody fingertips, Stained with the effects of sadomasochism. And it is still not my crimson lust that floods his mouth, It is not my frail shell of a girl that he holds in his arms. Because to him I’m just another pretty face, a stranger amongst the crowd, I do not tip-toe through the folds of his brain at midnight, And I do not remind him of red roses when I am on my knees in front of him. Begging, pleading for him to notice my struggle, Hands perched in a position to catch the eyes of the elders, And maybe have them question the holy order itself. I could cut his masculine heart out and have a feast, And the girl he notices still wouldn’t be me. I’m sinking deeper into the flood, And even though I seem totally water-proof and calm in the storm, Even though I seem invincible, Really I’m just invisible.