- Erotic Poetry
- Who are you?
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Oh, who are you, my dear?
But wait, let's make it clear.
You'll do anything I say, it's true,
I can shape you into what I want, too.
Your interests, your thoughts, your likes,
They're just outfits I choose, like hikes.
To entertain me, until I'm bored,
Then I'll change you again, my word.
One day a smart feminist, you see,
With a know-it-all attitude, carefree.
But soon after, a shy gamer girl, so sweet,
Needing me for calls, anxious if we don't meet.
So, who truly are you, I ponder,
My slut, my toy, my doll, I wonder.
My braindead whore, my bitch, I say,
Those labels, my love, define you each day.
They're not just tags, they're who you are,
Deep down inside, near or far.
So Try again, think and tell me ,
who the fucking are you, sweetie?
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