[Cereal_Killa]

Symbolization

A gangster knows the true meaning of life and death, hurt n release
As the attitudes from several ages saw women’s arousal in terms of disease
Please
Take your seat

..
He graces his fingers across my thighs, brushing my senses on fire
Light rays of frayed desire break to align as my flesh perspires
Nervous, nerves of steel to shield but with a will I wield on purpose
Strong, a battle field of love or lust.. Uncertainty feels so worthless
Hurting before insertion, but too young to know any better
He gropes in pleasure, wetter yet aware of the scarlet’s letter
He kisses me, I’m eased releasing in a sea of my endeavors
Measuring the man.. not his physic but by how he guarantees “forever”
Infinite promises of promised-land, dreams in which their fulfilled
A scenic scene of cosimc colours schemes that seem so real
Perfect placement with his urging tips as my fingers link to embrace it
Racing membranes, face to waist with his tongue untamed.. I taste it
Changing pace, a mild percussion, a slow bass with violins
A soft ballad of balance builds right as I’m hit by the choirs hymn
A violent spring of vibrant pinks that quiver from out my lips
The sound so fierce it pierces skin, deep beneath his hips
My lids are closed but my hearts exposed within the trust he clutches
Dominance rushes, my wrists are restrained before my cheeks stop blushing
Wait! I proclaim in vane yet he unbuckles his belt and starts thrusting
Crushing, blow for blow even though my vagina shrinks he keeps fronting
Face fucking me; sight glued to any all signs of the truth festering
That I am scared, that I feel weak, that I seem less deserving
I bite down, I bleed as I have screamed NO so many times its faded
Jaded, lying in a pool of secretions trying to survive its bathing
He unleashes
Baby, look I just don’t know what got into my
My pride internally whispers
I couldn’t have fought harder to protect my virginity
..

I’m destined to create or to be raped by the common man
A pure black rage or the elements needed for this land
My infection is a label.. stamped with frailty and delivered in spite
My name is Vesica Pisces and even as a “WOMAN” I live for Wuthering Heights..
I am often misrepresented by an archaic rapture for tortured minds
“The day I became a WOMAN” derives from mans shame.. in female pride
I am dignified past this label
As I,
I am LIFE
are you?
..

BLACK = DEATH