You've corrupted me with your lips. Your body has drained something from me. My happiness perhaps? Sure I can gain felicity from other, and the one I love. But I feel in a short time it expires. When in your presence my joy comes rushing back to me with arms wide open like a young. But if your mood is not displeasing you keep my him locked away like Dave Pelzer in his autobiography. I hope it is only to my paranoia that you would treat my rejoice with such hate. I hope you'd never endure what Gertrude Baniszewski did to and allowed to happen to the darling Sylvia Likens on what makes me glow. I don't know if it were me or an other, but your eyes have changed as well and if it were to have been me then at least you are lucky to know i'd never harm a hair on it's head.
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