King

You were my King and upon a throne you sat Spiked whip in your hand ready for lashing at only my thoughts Like a King I treated you Like a Slave I was treated You found pleasure in my pain Worry you not; I find strength in my lashing and beatings Then one day, one strike too far I ripped the shackles from my feet and free I was Free of your demands Your whip still lashes out for me Just breathes from touching my skin Still on a thrown you sit, alone I dance circles around your misery in my freedom Now tell me, why do I crave your lashing whip again?