Hip shaking, rocking, swinging my hips, licking my lips, swaying, laying, playing, batting my eyes, and wiggling my thighs, I was alive. Then I heard a song, sweet tales of love, blunt lust, he sang it in my ear, it banged like a drum, I was alive, heart beating, pulsating, between my womanhood like a drum, he sang me tales of love, then drew his lust in blood. Sweet lies, lullabyes of sorrow, it pierced my heart, like an arrow, and sang my misery like a sparrow, and I died, I cried, my tears flowing, where I was once alive, he rendered me dead, leaving nothing but a featherless pillow, on my empty bed, he told me sweet lies, lullabyes, and he sang it in my ear, as he watched me die.
Reason for writing:
To that bad, bad man. . .(you know. . . yadda, yadda, yadda)
Birth sign: Libra
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