The Sheltered 'Me'

Soft is woman, so they say, true gentleness unseen by day
mayhap though she is barbed and thorned and sometimes ridiculed an scorned
but how doth this relate to me a servant of eternity
for I know woman well I say and walk in quietness of day

amongst the many wandering eyes of judgments mission in disguise
Mayhap I find someone today that does not turn their eyes away
but looks on me with open heart, perhaps, then I may make a start
to learn myself what poets say about the closing of the day

I wander through my life disguised, hiding from the knowing eyes
wondering at my hair, my cloths, the me inside that does transpose
the thoughts tword man and their guise to what lies 'tween much softer thighs
Questions beat within my chest, as sometimes have I thoughts of breast

Emotions deep within me stir, questioning, could there be a her
and how could I, the sheltered 'ME' hope to find the illusive 'SHE'
And so through life I chose to tread seeking comfort in mans bed
but at what price, and must I pay at the closing of each day

lying falsely through the night, am I now too weak to fight
or is my weakness not the question, of the desire, in my possession
have I choice, so could I flee, or also choose to set it free.
so now to you who may yet be, all of this I give to thee.

and my desire now set free, though it may cost eternity
for you, alone, on one sweet day, give all I have, last penny pay
so thinks my passion overruled, and slumbers reason though I am schooled
that you must be, and in my bed, desires flame will be well fed.

What now, shall I do my sweet, your folds caressing I repeat
to make you sound triumphantly, that I alone can make you plea
for mercy and some other things, which may relate to pokes and stings
for then I shall within you find, a nectar sweet and make it mine

And in return so hear me plea, please oh please take all of me
I cannot pass this chance to live, for what id take and what Id give
for you. to teach, so much and more Id bear if given you, your gentle touch
or passions torture made belie all my protesting till I die.

And If we are not meant to be, for mans bed still has hold on me
Think on this, and all be well, we will not see the gates of hell
Through knowing what our hearts may hold, our story must be left untold
still tortured will I be to send, friends we will be till the end

--Illyena