She is his prop
The pretty background in his scenes
The perfect compliment for his C.R.E.A.M. dreams
Cash rules everything and you gotta play the part
Life is a game of chess and only fools stratagize using matters of the heart
He chose her because of her pliable devotion
Love?
Such a useless emotion
She was tepid,translucent,tastless...like water easily mixed
she quenched his thirst without imposing her flavor on his lips
She is a lady'
His freak
His fairytale bitch
The versatile scratching post for the restless whims of his itch
No sass crosses the threshold of her lips
No repetitive two cents that nag
Only the characters she breathes into reality, are carried in her bags
From blond to brunette
She blends into tones set
Her thirst stays dry,her pussy stays wet
She lives within his vison
Altering herself to fit his revisions
Debts that he repays in childhood wealth
Playing with her before placing her on the shelf
No children will ever be birthed...they are too real for this plastic dream house
Human threads sleeping soundly,not to be roused
So she sterilizes her temple,drowning out the echos of her womb's empty nest
Fertile breeding grounds dried to barren wastelands for his seeds to infest
Acid washed innocence that leaves flesh disolved
Life spent inside the chest of his desires,as his adored paper doll