A woman is a savage
feeding on prey
regardless
her poise, invoking fear in even the filthiest of slithers
she tears up whatever she gets her hands on
she doesn't need this prey
she can get her way if she wanted to but for her births' honour she will chase after deers and antelopes
A woman is a force of nature
She is the sun that brightens your day
she is the same Mandera sun that scorches your visage
causing a prematurely wrinkling façade
play your cards well
and she is the purest brightness in the Maldives
A woman is a force of nature
she is the ever flowing stream of resourcefulness
if it hasn't reeds to weaves
it had fish to feed
She is a force of nature
the rains that nurtures growth
or the floods whose gates betrayal opens
play your cards well,
And she is The New Orleans Fields' irrigate
A woman is a drunk
She is so drunk on life
that passion
she simply does not exist
A woman is pure beauty
Wrinkles, bumps on reddened skin, uncoloured lips, thunder thighs and swaying hips
THESE DO NOT MAKE A WOMAN
Her loving them and knowing they form her physique not her being is what MAKES A WOMAN
Her loving them and knowing they form her physique not her being is what MAKES A WOMAN
