My body is not a temple
It is a rundown shack
Your presence defiling
Lost in time
This is no pleasure Palace.
More like a dungeon of pain
Where your Wicked Ways reign
I am but a peasant
Of little consequence
You and your lordly needs
Come first always
A servant I am
In my broken shack
You visit when you desire
Pretending you like the decor
Leaving as fast as you came
In this haunted place.
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