Eyes shut tight and lips half open
Arms locked tight upon your back
Chains restricting all your movements
Ready for the first attack

Body scrubbed and neatly shaven
Trembling under every whack
But still standing at attention
Waiting for the next attack

Pushed and shoved from corner to corner
Bent in stocks, stretched on the rack
Pulled apart and pried wide open
You undergo a new attack

And when the tears roll down jour face
And welts and bruises cover your back
Finally your screams for mercy
Hold me off my last attack

It is time for comfort....


© WanderingSpirits 2001