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Ⓕⓛⓐⓣⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

Does your doll know that you’re dreaming of me?

Soon, my door will tremble beneath your furious fist,

But the barricades will not bequeath your entry.

Does your doll know about the last time we kissed?

--

Since you left, my smile returned with unparalleled radiance;

Now, it is no longer shadowed by your decadence.

So listen here and hear me clear: stay away, my dear;

Look as you will, but dare to touch and I’ll force you to fear.

--

Whores mirroring your morals revolt me;

My eyes cannot stomach the thought of such.

But I do hear my name;

And I’m aware of your game;

And I’m flattered that you miss me so much.

--

Is your doll wearing the dress you demanded she wear?

The one with laces and buttons that fits only moi?

Trust me, that outfit will choke her and be subjected to tear;

Like she could handle what I had to—ha!

--

Distinctly, you rip your iron curtain away to stare;

Ogle me as you will, if only for the theatrical thrill.

Know that I hear my name.

Know that I’m aware of your game.

And I’m flattered that you’ll waste away at your sill.

--

Was your doll crying when she discovered your lies?

Pity, poor her, for returning to you in the first place.

Naturally, you ignored all her desperate cries,

Cast her aside, took her back the next day—disgrace!

--

Still, I’m flattered that you still want me back, oh-so badly;

Especially when you sneer and peer, oh-so sadly.

Come on, it’s either that or you have an obsession.

Sometimes I wonder which, for you, would be a regression.