He didn’t believe my story

Of a woman born half wild

She decided long ago to give up

So she reverted back to a child.


Scores have tried to tame her

To no avail all times.

Though many of them have written

Some very delicious rhymes.


Within her is a beast

A treat not everyone can take.

She is the the woman screaming for vegence

Not the one burning at the stake.


Compiled on a desk is the truth

Revealed in complication.

It is all a matter of timely revenge

When dealt in breaths of infatuation.


Cries heard long ago

The ignored for everyone’s sake.

I already said she was the one screaming at night

Not the one burning at the stake.


Within her is a beautiful woman

At the breast of her compromise.

Without her you are sullen and angry

Left without a consolation prize.


There are women you can take and have

With just a simple and small confession.

This one though, is not up for grabs

She won’t be a layman’s possession.


Silken robes adorn a statue

Yet she remains pathetically nude.

An obstacle left in the middle of town

Seems overly ornate and rude.


Within those chosen as the few

Losing every battle they engage.

Wonders never cease to be

And sometimes subtleties enrage.


Within her is an angel

Born perfectly astute.

The darkness does not consume her;

A fact she would not refute.


Freedom is within you

You are not born with that obsession.

It is a perfectly balanced lie of the mind

Your most valuable possession.





Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: