Submission

Sifting through the wreckage of another broken dream. The outside appearance of love, unlike anything You have seen. Standing before You now, a man who knew its place before I'd fall upon my hands and knees to worship at Your door. To serve is life, to fail is death. A slave who would do anything to taste Your breath. You are a Goddess and control's this ones life. Yet everywhere Your discipline looks is in Chaos and in Strife. To be the one who lives to die. Knowing nothing more than a place cry. Is neither man, nor slave, nor fool. But a simple offering You use as a tool. Your man would give You everything, just to hear two words . A song between the Two of us to take away the hurts. You have before You a choice or two deserving of Your toy. You know that in Your heart of hearts, that slave is a good boy.