Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and mature content.
Wench easily grabbed her virtue
Of her wood-mad father whom hunger with flesh,
Whenas night comes, the nightmares begin
An innocent eyes of young child starts to cry.
All of her holy body is full of poisonous buss
She's wanted to shout because of the unexplainable sensation,
Can't move, can't yell of beg and plea
They're inside of the room of woe and sorrow.
Hearken to her own moan and misery cries
By planting a cactus with her tiny shield,
Begging to her father to stop his infamy
She mumure that must better to die.
Ashamed and lack of confidence to honor herself
Tho her own father steal her virtue—
A lanceler and graceless rapist
The reason why her own daughter lives by agony.
—𝓡𝓲𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 /+072119🍂