Some days I wonder what it is all for. Why these words plague my thoughts. Haunting me. Forcing me to cut myself and quill them onto paper until it is saturated with my story rich blood. Words seeping slowly, keeping with the tendency of blood from a wound. I wonder naught what they mean, for the meaning is very clear. I wonder why me. For my passion is a bitter mistress--A Dominatrix, coming and going on her own whim. Her will flows forth from her loins when stubbornness suits her and at a turn she has my willingness; playful, teasing and taunting me nearer.
The voice that calms my panic storm whispers “Why not me?”