The agony, The treachery,
No other sensation provides me with more pain.
Every attempt stings my most sensitive spot,
What am I doing? Is there no other way?

Just thinking of how I must return,
How I must repeat the unthinkable act.
It sits there haunting my every thought,
I swear it’s laughing, no, I swear it’s taunting.

It’s appearance is so delicate,delectable, so delightful,
I know it’s lies, full of deceit.
It’s like a women selling herself; full of unknowns,
No, it’s much worst…

I beg for it to change,
The inanimate object made for total torture.
I pray for it to change,
But without a doubt it will be the same.

My hand slowly reaches.
I can’t take it anymore,
Or at least IT can’t
I give in, for men were made with weak wills.

If you were just one more…
Even with a bit of… Moisturizer?
I detest you…
two-ply tissue.