The patience of a saint

She has a little cubicle
to call her very own
It’s insulated very well
you’ll never hear her moan

She has a wardrobe full of clothes
the skirts are very short
Her drawer’s full of lingerie
of every naughty sort

Her leather boots reach very high
her heels are sharp as nails
Up on the wall there hangs a crop
and cat with many tails

Anything you ask of her
she’ll do without a fight
It doesn’t matter what she wants
she’ll work all day and night

Even if you break her leg
she’ll issue no complaint
All abuse she’ll weather with
the patience of a saint

But maybe one day she will wake
and choose a different fate
Perhaps her smiling plastic face
will hide a seething hate

For once the screams will not be hers
that only she will hear
She’ll paint the walls with human blood
and never shed a tear

So hesitate a while before
you treat a robot bad
Because it wouldn’t take a lot
to drive a sexbot mad

About Frank

A Sci-Fi & Fantasy author and lyrical poet with a mild obsession for vampires, succubi, goddesses and Supergirl.
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