SICKO

                                                             


The man he thinks he's sleek and quick,
His hands are poisonous and slick,
But ultimately he is really sick.

He makes me shudder with horrible fear,
Thinking he might have touched my little dear,
Quietly I crouch in the corner making sure he doesn't come near.

His depravity is plain upon his face,
His plot in planned in a deep dark space,
In the blackness of his soul thoughts of debase.

I see this in him as I watch and wait,
Willing myself to make the fear abate,
I think..how could I have been so faulty to pick him as a mate.

I can't allow this to go any farther and fester,
How could he touch his child and molest her,
Alas he comes to the room to sequester,

His loins upon his child so meek,
He's not a man, he's just abominable and weak,
It's justice now that I will seek.

He slips inside her bedroom door with ease,
His erection I see him squeeze,
As I flick on the light, and drop him with my knee.

"How could you"I cry "what's wrong with you"!
To touch a child that's so years few,
"But now it's you that I'm gonna screw"!

I push 911 as he's whimpering in pain,
They come and  arrest him and put him in chains,
Myself now.. I must regain!

However my child is safe, and that's what counts,
Don't mess with this mother's child for she will pounce,
Taking pound for pound of your hide..plus an ounce!


by Donna Evans   2-01-2013