deepundergroundpoetry.com

Twisted Tale

Poca-Hunt-as[/font]

She loved him.
That clothed white man.
She risked it all for him.
Why didn't he understand?

All he had was guns
and swords.
As if those would protect him,
from poison darts and more.

John Smith.
All he wanted was
indigenous pussy.
Got shot for fun,
so he could be taken back
and total excuse so cheesy.

On the night,
as he board the ship.
He felt some thing stick him,
right in the hip.

His eyes
became blurry,
and before he could scream
he fainted at the sight
of his thighs now bloody.

When he awoke,
our beloved Pocahuntas,
had tied him up.
Dominatrix style,
and had him cooped up,
in a hut.

"Who told you
you could leave?"
She asked.
"Your child,
I'm to conceive"
she said caressing him,
with an axe.

He was now a prey,
to the forest huntress.
He fucked her,
and planned to leave,
because of that, he's now her
slave, her mistress.[/font]