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This is what you get.
No smile. No softness.
Just My middle finger and the truth you try so hard to ignore. You're not special.
You're not chosen.
You're just another forgettable body I let kneel in the dark. And yet, you still stroke. I don’t blow kisses. I don’t call you sweet.
I give you the gesture that matches your worth,
and you ache for it. Because deep down, you know this is what you deserve.
To be dismissed. Ignored. Mocked.
And still commanded to obey. You’ll watch Me flip you off like the irrelevant toy you are.
And you’ll edge anyway, desperate for attention you haven’t earned. You're not worth more.
And that’s exactly why you can’t look away.