It is the tale of a desperate dame:
Filled from head to toe, with the breeze that blows,
Subdued by her sensual self, she is game,
With the glimpse of every stud, her heart swiftly goes.
All the time she lonely slept, or was saved,
Nay, but caged, alone in her room;
Hanging on for dear life, drived by desire,
An inner wildfire, alone in her gloom.
Then her pale pal came and snatched,
Her keeper's soul, and away she broke free,
From her captivating chains and catched
Her whole, now in full control, finally!
She roamed the streets, night after night:
Seeking sweet love, in everyman's grove.
She then like lead, lost all her bright,
And was no more, the chaste white dove.
Till it became a habit, and her body a wicket:
To indulgence, thrusts, yearns, and bursts.
It has turned to an obsession, she did run riot;
All those years of oppression, an unfulfilled thirst!
She moaned for more, and for more she did covet;
Now seeking satisfaction, with her endless endeavors.
It was all on the house, nothing was the profit,
Every time she gave it all, as if it was the first ever!
And then bruises are all over, her body is all sore,
Couldn't handle the pleasures, in her viciously, they tore.
Hence, one night stands, so for Lust not to gall!
And that's the Fourth One of the 7 Deadly Reasons To Fall.
Danny The Dreamer Boyd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/7-ballads-of-the-fall-the-virgin-the-trier-and-the-whore-clashes-to-ashes-and-lust-to-dust/
