Object (2)

Object (2)

Hidden in your darkened cell

You await what daylight brings you

Still suffering from the night before

Feeling the tortures you have been through

Ragged clothes, your crotch uncovered

Ready to be abused once more

Bearing all the marks of slavery

The sign of subject, of royal whore

Doors are opened, footsteps nearing

Keys are rattling in the door

Will you follow on your own accord

Or are you dragged across the floor?

But when a soft command is whispered

You hurry quickly to the light

Like a moth attracted to the candle

Enjoying the last seconds of her flight...