3-2 Frank vs. 2-1 Witty - WITTY 6-1

[Frank]

February 14th, 1892, Mississippi

Mrs. Miller: the Masters Wife, overhear a commotion coming from the Villages Sycamore tree: A belligerent bicker
She finish washing the dishes, rinsing her finger, wiping her hand off on her promiscuous figure
It is Valentines Day on the Plantation - Her husband, he impotent, he ain't intimate with her
She got her eye on one of the Slaves. A Man she fell for and began beginning to picture
A Chiseled Digger: who gained enough respect from his Master to sit with them for dinner
Her eyes pretty; hinted with glimmer;; eyelashes inconspicuously flickered;;
And she became smitten, to the surprise of her ignorant sister.
"Mam that was mighty delicious'" He say, licking his lips of the greasy giblets and gizzard
Master look at his wife: who is blushing crimson in the candlelight's cinnamon wicker
Master smiled with his tickling whisker, and laugh it off with a discriminate vigor
The Crowd became delirious with pitch forks: as she walked past the picket fence - brisk in her slippers
After fixing a big dinner, Master is dozing off:
As The Slave & Misses Miller sipped Moonshine, illicit liquor
The two drink until Misses Millers inhibitions sliver away and her dress inched up on her promiscuous figure
The Slave lay her down on the Cotton bed.
He was Master most diligent picker...
Sweat glittered off his body, as they ripped at each others clothing, stripping, and kissing
He lifted her into a position, she ain't never been in, and she orgasm; twitching, she whimpers
Misses Miller is trying to get through the crowd, She can only see them - rigging the rigger
She gets onto her tippy-toes - trying to keep her balance, but is knocked down by an inconsiderate sprinter
The sound of whipping sends a chill up her spine - a sinister shiver
"What's going on?" She asks innocently to a man with a white hood with eyes and mouth symmetrically scissored..
Mrs. Miller and the Slave kiss until there lips blister and lay there in her Grandfather clocks rhythmic ticker...
She rides the slave until her inner gripper quivers - and closes her eyes, dim, and then dimmer
When she awakes the Slave is gone.
Blood is trickling from her - It is her period: she hadn't missed it -
The Crowd gets bigger and bigger.
The Master wakes up in the morning to the Slave zipping his zipper
"Boy what you still doing here? You finnah get killed!" The Master say, pointing his gun, finger fidgeting on his trigger
"Mister, I was a just leaving'' he say, limping like a pimp, hip switching,
Mrs. Miller can see the Sycamore tree: The Mob - but not the victim
Her Sister comes out of nowhere - tripping in to her,
the two get squished into the bitter
Thick of things
"BOY don't you know you're forbidden" Master had out bidded for him over the most malicious of bidders
Mrs. Miller, lie there asleep, completely in differ
"You risking your life" Master say: putting his gun down with the most lividest temper
The Sycamore Tree branch limb gets limber and limber
The body hanging from the branch: twistingly withers
The Crowd grimace and snicker
The body gets stricter and stiffer
Mrs. Miller make her way to the front, watching the Man kicking, kicking, kicking - he kicks her
When, from behind her, the slickest of whispers...
"Happy Valentine Day"
It is the Slave. Grinning, Soaking wet from swimming off into the Mississippi river
They watch on, as the Master - Lynches some nigger

The end.