Photo Credits – Google

If walls could talk,
They’d tell tales of my terror
Each time you entered my room,
They’d remember the taste of my revulsion,
Every time you parted my legs,
And violated without remorse,
The virtue of my secret spot.

If walls could squeal,
They’d shout to the world of my secret,
Cut by my own hands and how I’d bleed,
Because I thought l was sick,
Sick with dread and concurrent longing,
For the repetition of your visits,
And believing only death could heal.

If walls could discourse,
If mine could find their voice,
They’d articulate how much I enjoyed,
The sight and taste of blood,
How I craved for satiation,
Till feeding on mine without detection,
Was no longer enough…


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