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photography, Kitti, art, me, kink

Kitti, the Unstoppable Hex Machine

...and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries...

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The First Cut
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti

The first poem I've written for nearly three years.

To be honest, it stinks of teenage angst... but I think it's important to stay true to one's roots.

It's called "If I Let You Walk All Over Me, Maybe You Won't Ruin My Carpet".

You'll find it below.


If I let you walk all over me, maybe you won’t scuff my carpet,

It cost a lot to make, and was an effort to fit.

It’s already quite faded, and there’s that stain by the door

But if it didn’t exist, then I’d fall through the floor.

 

If I let you scar my flesh, maybe you’ll not burn my carpet,

It holds me up from the street on my own little parapet.

True, it’s not perfect, and frayed at one edge,

But it catches me, safe, when I fall out of bed.

 

If you hit me in the face, maybe you’ll ignore my walls,

They keep my ceiling from crashing onto my floor.

Yes, there are dull spaces where pictures once were,

But if you’re hitting me, at least you’re not hitting her.

 

You can do what you like to me, just leave my curtains,

They warm me; they hide me; that much is for certain.

Ok, they’re too long, and they don’t match the bed,

But they’ll slow down the brick that was aimed at my head.

 

If I let you into me, then you’ll not break down my door,

I know if it was human, it would give you what for.

Its wood is in bad shape and the lock always sticks,

But it keeps what’s outside from blowing me to bits.

 

Perhaps if you leave me, then I’ll be free.

I could leave my little room, and its protection of me.

Exposed to the elements, I’ll corrode and I’ll rust,

Like a forgotten statue, that betrayed it’s artists trust.