CW: Readers sensitive to various dark topics should proceed with caution.
My mom always told me
To be careful.
To watch where I flee,
And to always be fearful.
For wherever I go,
And wherever I look,
Wherever there’s woe,
He’s there with his pocketbook.
He writes down all the girls:
Make sure they’re alone.
To collect them like pearls—
Make them his own.
Always on the lookout
For a sheepish little rose;
Whenever there’s doubt,
He asks her to pose.
“Try this blood lipstick,”
“This dress fits so nicely!”
Make her amnestic,
Then asks nonchalantly:
If she’ll stay the night,
If she’ll follow him,
If she’ll comply until daylight,
If she’ll remain dim.
But it’s all a ruse,
All a façade.
He’ll give you the booze,
And fix what is flawed.
But after a while,
Whenever she’s calm,
His dark claws and smile,
A pray and a psalm.
He kisses her soul out,
And makes it a prison.
No possible breakout,
The pain has arisen.
Then crosses her name,
Out from his pocketbook.
For him, it’s a game
For her, she lost what he took.
Never the same,
Never again—
Oh, what a shame,
She’s now in a chain.
The demon is always lurking,
With his hooves and his tail,
A prey’s got him smirking.
An escape to no avail.