The Outcast



He grabbed me round my slender neck,

I could not shout or scream,

He carried me into his room

Where we could not be seen;

He tore away my flimsy wrap

And gazed upon my form -

I was so cold and still and damp,

While he was wet and warm.

His feverish mouth he pressed to mine; I let him have his way -

He drained me of my very self,

I could not say him nay.

He made me what I am. Alas!

That's why you find me here...

A broken vessel - broken glass -

That once held Bottled Beer.