His pleasure, Is my pain
You wanted to feel my pleasure, feel my pain
You wanted to feel my wrath, feel my vengeance
I pay you in my blood
I pay the toll before the flood
The feel of the knife as it cuts into my skin
The feel of the blood running down
Take your pleasure in my blood
Take your pleasure in my pain
Watch as it flows
Watch as I loose my glow, as I loose all control
Is this your pleasure? To cause me pain? Does this make you
feel big, feel strong? Does this make you feel anything at all?
On a daily basis I fight back the darkness calling my name,
asking me to do things to my self. Telling me that all of my pain, my hurt, my
confusion could end so easily. One cut from his knife, watch as my life's blood
spills for his pleasure. My pain making him moan.
He rejoices in my pain. He sends personifications of himself
to do what he can not. To hold me, make me feel loved, treasured and cherished.
Just to rip this pleasure from my grasp. Leaving me broken, beaten and bleeding
on the floor. Thankful for the warmth of my blood as it pools around me,
warming my cold skin. Thankful that the pain fades with every beat of my heart.
This is my past, my present, and my future. To always be filled with pain, to
beg for release. To yearn for his touch, his kiss, his pleasure is my pain.
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