The Sadist


She said I’m an animal,

A brute,

A devil,

A beast of sorts,

Let me show her my mark,

My revelation,

The hate in me is brunette,

They say chivalry is dead,

I can confirm that,

I saw logic kill it,

Chop its head off,

Buried it,

And left the body on the streets,


I oversaw its cremation,

Put the ash in an urn,

And cremated the urn,

Just in case it thought it’d pull a Lazarus,

I’m not hurtful,

I’m spiteful,

I never see my glass as half empty,

Or full,

I drink straight from the tap,

They call me the sadist.

There was Tasha,

She was a church usher,

Easy on the smile,

So I didn’t really rush her,

But behind closed doors,

She was just like Usher,

Letting out all these confessions,

She didn’t want me to reveal,

So she made me sign a concession,

But as long as it was in my possession,

There would always be an obsession,

She loved me,

I lust her,

But I didn’t want to hurt her,

So I set her up with my boy,

Just so that I could bust her,

And that I did,

So I left her,

On the pretence I didn’t trust her,

I covered all my bases,

I guess that’s why,

They call me the sadist.

Then came Malinda,

The most sought after,

For her I had to submit a tender,

I borrowed a nice suit,

Got into a nice ride,

And went with my secretary Linda,

I didn’t need to pitch,

I already had a snitch,

She told me Malinda had an attitude,

She was basically a bitch,

I knew my way around her,

She had one of those posteriors,

I took her to my joint,

She loved the interior,

If only she knew my motives were ulterior,

There was nothing I wanted more,

Than to be in her interior,

Things went well,

Our relationship had become senior,

But we all have goals,

And mine I had achieved,

I knew it was my time to leave,

I left with a note,


They call me the sadist.

I ended up meeting Lauretta,

With me she had a vendetta,

I had left her earlier,

And things hadn’t got better,

She knew I was the one,

And I knew that I was done,

So we decided to be one,

We went for dinner,

Some under the moonlight,

Others beside candles,

Things were looking up,

I was finally growing up,

I would wake up,

And the first thing,

To myself,

I would fist bump,

In the back of my head,

A thought popped up,

What made her come back?

Is it me?

Is it the love?

Or she just wanted the last say?

I let her have it,

I gave her the opportunity to dump me,

It was through,

They call me the sadist.

All the names used are purely for the purpose of the post.

About The One Potter

I'm not very different from the next writer. I'm extremely different. I don't just write, I live the life I write. I'd leave my number here for you but my email will suffice for now.
This entry was posted in Half A century posts. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The Sadist

  1. Pingback: The Sadist | Son of a Rant the1potter

  2. dizzybianca says:

    I love this one

  3. dizzybianca says:

    I still insist, can I have this framed?

  4. Yes, you can have it framed. I write these things when I can’t think straight and never go through them. I read them like every other person. So if you like it, I’ll let you do as you wish

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