They always love my inner thighs,

My great big eyes,

My skin so bright.

They love to hold my delicate hand,

See me as a brand,

An object so grand.

They love to take me away from here,

It’s not so clear,

It’s not so clear.

I feel an injection,

There won’t be confession,

So he reaches his hand

With no consideration.

Down to a no-zone,

A don’t-even-go zone,

My red light apparently too dim,

For he doesn’t see the bright tone.

I’m feeling it enter me,

The poison he so cleverly

Slipped into my arm,

Within seconds it hits me.

I’ve lost all connection,

All simple direction,

I fall upon him,

His grin becomes a sort of

Devilish attention.

I can no longer see now,

Far from the crowd,

He’s done it, succeeded,

His friends would be so proud.