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Thursday, July 27, 2006

art of mating

Stolen, lost and plucked free of childhood innocence
Wasnt abandoned, as they wish to see
I didnt give it up, I was 3
If I could go back in time, I wouldnt
Nothing would change
Id still be me, youd still be you
Theyd still be them
You won them over somehow
It wasnt your personality
Even as a young child, I seen the fraud
Yet you were still allowed to touch me
To take away form me something
Ill never get back
He, touches me, I hate you
And him in the process
Its not right,
I hate to be hugged
I hate to be kissed,
The thought of his tongue brings me back
I never scream though
For this you would be proud.
You win I lose
But hes not a winner
As bad as it may sound
He loses gracefully.
In the art of mating
Im in control,
Or so I used to think
But really, its you
Its your touch I fight
Its your kiss I hate
Hes lost somewhere in the middle

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