The mere thought of him gives me a chill.
For he claws my life-book page by page.
I would cheat him if I had the skill.

When he beats my skin to get his fill
he thinks I’m confident, unafraid.
The mere thought of him gives me a chill.

He plays with my appearance at will.
I feel like a puppet on his stage.
I would cheat him if I had the skill.

He never grows tired, weak, or still.
There are no boundaries to his cage.
The mere thought of him gives me a chill.

But his presence is enough to kill
and he hunts me down in endless rage.
I would cheat him if I had the skill.

I wasn’t afraid of him until
I realized just how much I’ve aged.
The mere thought of him gives me a chill.
I would cheat him if I had the skill.