Tell Me

I've poured myself in my rhymes; now in my rhymes I seek guidance. The forbidden: thoughts of flooding her body with joy, prior to destroying her being with pain. Better it is not to have ever known such ache, and even greater it is for you not to be the messenger. Why am I thinking about it so much? Is it because it is to be..., she's so soft, so sweet, so ready, so. Should I be the one to introduce her to this world of hurt? You tell me.