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Free Love Poems \


By MochaBabey on 09/29/2009
Viewed: 367
Reviews: 1
All I seem to recall
Are his greasy fingers
Prying me open
As he slips
His forked tongue
To taste my soul
In all its vengeful innocence
I did nothing to stop him
Why should I
I quite enjoyed
The sizzle
his sodium-filled saliva produced
It gave this violation
A whole new flavor
And a different meaning
For why I let
This monster
breach me
And teach me
A new kind of pain
Driven from his poison
That tastes so swell
And slurps me up
It tastes sooo good
I''m dying for another sip
From that slit
This devil calls
A soul

-Guns, are for cowards. Pens, are for me. ~~OTEP-

© By MochaBabey On 9/29/2009 10:59:51 PM
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