Mysterious

Mysterious
Abel Tasman, New Zealand

March 9, 2011

Cold Fire

Weak. Sweat. Blister.
Maniac Mister.
She was attached to him
but then he hit her
And down she fell right through the floor
She was a woman. Not a whore
Twister. Fury. Revolting. Rage
He was a rapist twice her age
He committed a crime worth hard time
Now his life ain’t worth a dime
Backlash, Karma, right back in his face
Someone ought to --- no, got to! --- slap the taste
Right out of his grill
Or better still, destroy his will
Place his heart on a windowsill
It’s sad, I’m mad.
Because he took her
He shook her
She was a good-looker
But not anymore.
She broke when she went through the floor
She was a victim of an impulsive desire
Leaving me in a very cold fire

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