Luyện nghe bài hát Poetry, is my form of Prostitution.

You'd rather me recite my moans while we fuck.
Then hear all these I write.
In every punctuation, & every I wrote,
name in disguise, Every lyrics I write.
I find you in between the lines. In space you hide.
But you see, There's one similarity, in all of tragedies,
young lover dies.
poisoned, stabbed, or drowned.
Maybe he realized,
some people are meant to sleep together,
six underground.
You were hard headed.
But now you the hardest piece of him between your legs.
& no how much I write, no metaphor,
can the hinges or open the door.
You slammed in my face. But 3 words can open your legs, for sure.
So who needs guns to kill when you words?
do say the pen is mightier than the sword.
& as I spend my days for a lovesick cure,
you spend every night for more.
So when you contract his disease.
Don't come begging for on your knees.
Haven't you been on them long
Isn't that where this begun?