Crack that whip

Flood me with ambition or inspiration or
Something to pass the time
that isn’t already inside my weary 
Give me a prompt
A cue, if you will 
Check for spelling and grammatical errors
I must make a million
but I still look in the mirror and think
not today, Satan
while my hands expertly manouver product
and distribute colour
to correct
all my facial errors
or expressions
Alter my sentences 
just give me something to grip,
white knuckled 
cheeks blazing with realities harsh whip
Sixty lashings to the minute
I deserve more
God’s honest truth;
I ache for more
These bones aren’t as brittle as you might think
This skin has grown thick
for as supple as it appears
or feels
if you’ve been lucky enough to touch it
If you’ve caught me at a loss for myself 
feeling sorry and self-depricating 
If I’ve loved you 
and you’ve run your tongue over my stomach 
lifted my dress and
edged me, curiously 
I begged you, so
you know how good my skin is
at imitating weakness
You know how I bend to accomodate you
You know how to make my eyes open and close
You are a master puppeteer 
I, your marionette 
bow and break on suggestion
Hold you
Kiss you
Blow you
Choke me
Smile dancing more like a grin
teeth bared, soft focus
I look pretty in pink
So, give me an order
Instruct me, I am your star pupil
Just don’t act surprised at my rebellion 
you know my strength for all my weakness 
Just don’t act surprised 
if I cry when 
my heart breaks
I won’t cry at the whip
I won’t cry at the bite
I won’t cry
for your pleasure

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