Her history, she said,
Was one to dread,
Which she did.
Kept things hid.
Too much to feel,
She couldn’t deal,
And so instead,
She’d find,
With an open mind,
Her legs could spread,
Let others tread,
In her secret garden,
She’d grant them pardon,
To have their way,
So she could say,
She’d kind of feel,
Though not for real,
But it was a start,
It’d plant the seed,
So she’d grow to need,
To be truly freed,
To spread her heart.