Anita Magdalena

Anita Magdalena

Thursday, 22 March 2012



Fed from the bed of your words that misled
Now uncompromised dry I am bled
Unmoved by the verbal that falls like water
running aimlessly trying to slaughter
my mind with tongue licking and ripping
it doesn't catch just keeps slipping
on the tide of my impenetrable shield
keep it coming you drain as you wield

I keep getting stronger on the throw of your thunder
that lifts me up and pulls you under
Your Max headroom smile all plastic and fake
is just as pathetic as the piss that you take
Your threats make you feel like the big I am
you hang them over me and don't give a damn
My silence that bothers your unsettled thoughts
You just have to guess and come up with naughts

Selective and subjective accusations so vile
flow on the tide of your unceasing bile
My breath is my breath that on you will waste
So no words shall fall as your wrath I taste
The ouch in your suffering that puts me at fault
is struck ever deeper in the wounds that I salt
So you say in your hard done by way
how weak is the strength of your twat-ish display

Well you are long gone I got tired of your song
and the feel of your hand it's impact was strong
Made me bruise and bleed at your angry need
But never did I crumble or allow you to feed.