I cannot tell you what has been or what is to come
The tale I weave is not for some
It happened late one night at twelve o’ clock
Such a dreadful fixation that I could not block
He slowly came, he knew no haste
The blood within me froze, I became debased
He screamed and hit me and I fought a useless war
I fought with all my might, until my limbs grew sore
It was hopeless, I could not stop it
He beat me until he saw fit
He then laid on top of me and desecrated me some more
Tis’ five years now I have his child by my side that I bore…
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