Bury Her In Sky Instead
The deceased pompus lady-
Who lays in check
Tripped before she was ready
Her billows of ego-
mummed in life's demise.
Is she really her-
who froze testos
By a mere horse stride of a walk-
Trashing men's alluring gestures
With a flaring condemnation glare
That glided past through figures-
With an ego of a she gazelle.
Yes, that one,
Bury her in the sky instead
For in the world full of us
She tip toed our desires
And opted to live alone
In the fantasy of our admires
Like by clouds you were sired.
...
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