The way a horse’s tail will instinctively swat,

A common fly who's shot its shot.

My ache for you seems born in me,

I had my chance but couldn’t flee.

Who could’ve known it’d lead to this,

I should’ve stopped it at the kiss.

My chest is warm, but my wrists are cold,

I will soon learn to do as I’m told.

The gentle feather tricks my brain,

To thinking that there’s more than pain.

The first crack hurts twice as bad,

But for the numbness now, I am glad.

Why my aching must persist,

On my worst enemy, I wouldn’t wish.

This gut-wrenching feeling of despair,

Is what makes this climax incredibly rare.