Is it my eyes?
Is it my lips?
Is it my legs that motivates you to satisfy your satanic lust for a sexual treat.
Or is it my age?
Maybe I’m too young and helpless?
Or old and weak?
Or maybe I’m just the right age to ripen your demonic pleasures?
Is it in the way I walk?
Is it the way I speak?
Or how I dress?
Or do my hair?
That allows you the opportunity for you to vandalize my pure vanity fair?
Or it is the size of my hips?
The shape of my bossom?
Or my lack of societal standards that amounts to your level of hate speech?
Is it because I’m woman?
Is it my ability to stand my ground?
Or is it my mouth that runs away with me when you unknowingly transform into your wolf like formation?
Is it the way I defy you?
Or is it my friendly nature that determines which creature comes out to play?
But that doesn’t matter does it?
For when your conscience becomes ignorant as you’re blinded the lustful penis bliss.
When your tongue becomes boastful as you spit out your insecurities
And when your hands become joyous as they fulfill their greatest pleasures.
Lest we forget the strength I provide.
When you stripped my soul and made me anew to worlds eyes.
The battle was lost and you thought you had won,
Forgetting that the war has only begun to claim back my womanly pride.
