My eyes hoard tears.

First, from pride,

Afraid to be weak

Under the Power.

Now, my tear hoard

Holds its treasure

For the Power’s pleasure.

The paddle cracks

Like thunder.

The Power’s pleasure

Is my pain.

My tears will come,

The Power’s glory,

But an easy tear

Mocks the Power.

An honest tear

Celebrates my

Suffering.

The paddle’s grain

Marks my flesh.

It is hard,

I am soft.

It draws color

From my skin,

Beauty

From my eyes.

A tear grows slowly.

Glistening like a gem,

The tear looks over

My cheek’s cliff

And plunges down.

A call goes forth,

A tear has fallen,

Its kin must follow.

A diamond string

Extends from my face

To a widening

Puddle below.

My hoard must

Yield its treasure.

All my tears

Fall.

No mercy asked,

No pity earned,

I offer my pain

To the Power

I worship, love, serve.

Opposites, we are, in

Perfect balance.

Dominant, submissive.

Owner, slave.

Sadist, sufferer.

My tears are my

Offering

Sacrifice

Service

Worship

Love.