How can I tell from where my demons come?
How can I tell what makes them run?
I do not know what opens their door,
Nor how their taunts collapse me to the floor.
I know only that they are very real,
And come to me with no appeal.
I’ve been judged from when I was a girl,
By those who believed theirs a better world.
I feel so deeply, and yes, I bleed.
I have lived through one single creed.
To protect those downtrodden,
But who will protect me, relieve my burden.
This is the curse of being a submissive,
Without her Sir, life is aversive.
She needs his control, the mark on her skin,
Without it, there is no purge for her sin.
Come, bring the ropes, the belt,
Leave your mark, leave your welt.
Cleanse me, purge me,
Love me, I’m on my knees.
CWylde © 01-25-15