The Tragedy of a Daemon
this body,
when has it never been touched?
The sensation of these hungry hands running along my skin
I should have long accepted it or at least grown numb to them
but they still feel as foreign and invasive as the first time
they knead sadistically
but also with twisted gentleness
in a pathetic attempt to get a reaction of pleasure from me
and gratify his ego
I stopped shedding tears long ago
for human mourn a loss
and a loss points to having some kind of worth
but I'm just a hole for -ing
what is there to continue crying over
instead, I moan on cue
a perfect practiced pitch
that sends vibrations throughout his whole body
making him reach completion sooner
for I have more to deals to broker
before the corrupt police come and arrest me
and the morally upstanding wake up to mock
my desperate fight at surviving this pointless existence
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