A life wasted is a life lived she would say
but then again that was just her Goth role play.
She could be anyone she wanted to be
and she could act with utmost glee.
She could run around the room like a 4 year old
and she could openly show you her heart of gold.
She could touch your soul with just a word
and she could sing like that of a songbird.
She could woe me into whatever she wanted
and in this power she loved and flaunted.
I was her slave and she knew so well
and she loved putting me through emotional hell.
She could grace everyone else with happiness and joy
but to get I was just a mere pet, more of a toy.
She would run her fingers through my long dark hair
and she would say ambitious things without a care.
She would speak of my companions as future mates
and ask me if I would mind if they took her on dates.
She would twist my screws till my lid was to crack
and I would have to set her scandalous ass back on track.
She would still push the buttons every chance she got
and everyday would involve some evil plot
but on the outside was calm and love
like she was sent as an angel from above.
For beneath that mask she wore so smug
is a knife in her hand waiting to give you a hug.

10/20/2003

Posted on 10/20/2003
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard