With a deep thrust
Uncle broke my deep trust
Blood stains on my mattress
As I became another of his mistress
These words she said in tears
When uncle got this virgin “disvirgin”
Today, exactly 17 years after,
Her name
I mean her real name
tends to fad like an old blue jeans
As people now call her by her ways
A harlot that had lots of bedmates
A disgrace to female gender
At an age so tender
She would stop for every Venza
Every nights her legs spread up high in the air
like hands in worship
As she allows Every man that come to “come”
She had become loose
D only thing tight(tithe) about her is the 10% of her income
She parades in bumshots
Makeup so loud like a gunshot
And you know now
People must talk
So rumours came flying like airplanes in civil wars
Many spat as she walks pass
none ever asked why she took the wrong path
Trust me beside the money she gets
To buy the latest phones and human hair
There is a pathetic joy she derives
And uses as a curtain to cover the pains
Behind the scene
Behind her sin
Lies a melancholic soul longing for rescue
Rescue from her past traveling from afar
The thought of her molestation still challenges
Her freedom
Happiness has longed been kidnapped without ransom
Her memories bleeds from child abuse
Insecurity has turn her muse
Behind the scene
Lies a little girl who saw her first blood flow
not from menstrual pain
But from sexual pain
At eight she lost her parents
Uncle adopted her Because she couldn’t pay-rents
The only family she had left
Even though left handed uncle always
Seem right
Until that night
That night He came to say goodnight
Except for the fact that it took longer
before he turned off the light
“Hah but uncle I’m eight”
“Shhhhh don’t shout, can’t you see it’s late
Don’t worry it would soon be over”
As he turned her over
His finger sails fearlessly into her pants
Like a deer she pants
As she became wet only but with tears
With a deep thrust
Uncle broke her trust
Indeed that year was a great loss
As she mourns her parents and broken hymen
This shameful experience combated
With her self esteem
A disease of which her only medication was prostitution
And believe me there are many girls out there
Under torments from maybe different but
Similar experience
Making wrong decisions each day as they hallucinate their past
So before you put on that wig again judges
Please know this
That every movie has a making behind the scene
Every cupboard got a skeleton
And like the saying “Every saint has a past
And every sinner has a future
Uncle broke my deep trust
Blood stains on my mattress
As I became another of his mistress
These words she said in tears
When uncle got this virgin “disvirgin”
Today, exactly 17 years after,
Her name
I mean her real name
tends to fad like an old blue jeans
As people now call her by her ways
A harlot that had lots of bedmates
A disgrace to female gender
At an age so tender
She would stop for every Venza
Every nights her legs spread up high in the air
like hands in worship
As she allows Every man that come to “come”
She had become loose
D only thing tight(tithe) about her is the 10% of her income
She parades in bumshots
Makeup so loud like a gunshot
And you know now
People must talk
So rumours came flying like airplanes in civil wars
Many spat as she walks pass
none ever asked why she took the wrong path
Trust me beside the money she gets
To buy the latest phones and human hair
There is a pathetic joy she derives
And uses as a curtain to cover the pains
Behind the scene
Behind her sin
Lies a melancholic soul longing for rescue
Rescue from her past traveling from afar
The thought of her molestation still challenges
Her freedom
Happiness has longed been kidnapped without ransom
Her memories bleeds from child abuse
Insecurity has turn her muse
Behind the scene
Lies a little girl who saw her first blood flow
not from menstrual pain
But from sexual pain
At eight she lost her parents
Uncle adopted her Because she couldn’t pay-rents
The only family she had left
Even though left handed uncle always
Seem right
Until that night
That night He came to say goodnight
Except for the fact that it took longer
before he turned off the light
“Hah but uncle I’m eight”
“Shhhhh don’t shout, can’t you see it’s late
Don’t worry it would soon be over”
As he turned her over
His finger sails fearlessly into her pants
Like a deer she pants
As she became wet only but with tears
With a deep thrust
Uncle broke her trust
Indeed that year was a great loss
As she mourns her parents and broken hymen
This shameful experience combated
With her self esteem
A disease of which her only medication was prostitution
And believe me there are many girls out there
Under torments from maybe different but
Similar experience
Making wrong decisions each day as they hallucinate their past
So before you put on that wig again judges
Please know this
That every movie has a making behind the scene
Every cupboard got a skeleton
And like the saying “Every saint has a past
And every sinner has a future
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