"So he was nice."
Yeah that's what you think, mom.

He must be so nice when he kisses my earlobe
And tells me he loves me.

When he plays with my hair,
Pulls it,
Rips it out.

When he pushes me back on the bed,
Lays on top of me,
Tells me to just relax.

He must be so nice,
To make bruises so dark that they swirl like paint on a wet canvas. 

When I'm bitting my lip and the itching of tears line my eyes
he just must be so nice
to give me so
much
pain
that he calls pleasure.