At night
When the room
Is dark so dark
He's sweating
Leaves his mark
A sex toy
Destroyed one more time
Humping watch him
As he's getting six inch
Another pillow before he sleeps

It's day time

A wreck
This pillow's
Out it's head
Wishing it was dead
Laying on the bed
Looking at him
With dread
Feeling ashamed
Alone and dead
It can't go home now

Oh shit
He's bored
One more time
And he's cured
So unreal

Not safe
He has his toy
Sex slave rape
Day and night
But in his head
It's alright
Between these four walls
Not another woman hurt
Just a pillow and a perve
What on Earth

The pillows
They're alive
Coming to seek
Revenge so hide
They'd play soft
Then when it's time
For fucking a pillow
Like it was his mother
Smother for fake
Fucking a pillow
As if it was another

The end
Last edited by treborillusion at Aug 8, 2017,
Ahoy there. Lose the repetition of "dead" in the second bit. Lose the last line. Other than that, you touch upon a soulless sadness here. That's good. I'd make a joke about fleshing out details, but that'd be in poor form. And yet here we are.
I am a fake mountain.