A Slave To Lifetime

A Slave To Lifetime
A girl, deformed by years of him,
Hunched into a ball,
Holding herself together,
Clawing her way slowly back towards sanity.

Her master, hands rough with years of anger,
His emotions ran dry except for one,
He cares nothing for anyone or anything,
Only craves the right to be wanted.

The girl is only an asset to him,
No more than a tool in his pocket,
She helps him with what he wants most,
So it does not matter to him if she's willing or not.

He writes her contract in her blood,
His rules to which she's now bound,
A signature, forged by darkness,
Means only a slave to a lifetime of his belonging.

Chill to bone, shiver to winter,
The time of solitary has arrived,
It could be days, or weeks, or years,
A loneliness so deep, waiting to engulf her.

He waits, a hunters crouch defined,
Taken on a shape of singular, brutal uniqueness,
She falters, and falls prey to predator,
Weak to strong, dead to living.

Tears ran dry, hands held limp,
Her broken future awaits,
She cares no more for those living any sadness,
No one cares for her, possibly living the worst kind of all.

A puppet, ruled by a master of all,
Or so it seems to her,
She's the one always here,
Left with the all the empty strings.

She wishes everything would just disappear,
And leave to far far away,
But privileges such as wishes are freedom,
And privileges are against his rules.

What hurts the most is why,
Why her? Why not someone, anyone else,
But then she remembers, why would anyone deserve this,
Anyone except him, the master of all.

He often regrets his decision that night,
And thinks of all the consequences,
But his tool had started to rust,
And so what better to recycle what was no longer reliable.

It was a mother that found her,
Bloody in the alley,
And wept for the poor young girl,
Whose time had come to leave her strings behind.