In the midst of thought traffic,
A memory became manifest in the most distractive way.
An indelible vision that fills me with spite.
I was a pretty thing once, a good thing once,
Though I was with demons of a sordid kind.
Try as I might to expel them from sight,
Nevertheless their play filled me with want.
Such a sad thing to befall such a delicate state,
A innocence run astray,
By dark desires that begin to grip ever tight.
All meek and kind behavior vanished,
As loved ones from a leper,
Unclean with the taste of a mans lust.
If only that man never had I touched.
It is the memory of him that haunts me so,
Just when the strength to pursue what was comes to me,
I am struck with the thought of his caress.
All restrain leaves with haste,
A heart break revealed,
And a pummeling of mistrust.
If only to forget how I fell to such lonely places.
This is nothing but a mocking of humanity,
A hatred for those in naivety.
An easy trap for the unknowing of the lewd.
They are the ones that fall the hardest.
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