My Generation Sister

MY GENERATION SISTER love isn't a blessing,its a damn halacus I could tell right by the look on her eyes. She has grown round ,her hind body shakes Her voice calls, and no man stays gentle Her chest is heavy, and punks praise of it - Silly punks... My sister makes up, She polishes her skin with chemicals, her face sparkles it reminds me of the new moon Unlike her knees a pour definition of the African Colour With her polyester headbraids she erodes off all wisdom of these big shorts whose bellies extend like the nile every time they kiss she's hevean sent to them- and these other punks She paints her lips, and claims it of the Modern girl I don't hate my sister But she's a new Covid Which kills the human plasma.She wakes up at noon And disappears to the days retirement, Then back in the heart of the night, With a pile of smiles as if heaven just made her heir- My sister has forgotten our ways; My sister greets no more, And never kneels, she says it causes 'kneelionosis' Which kills the human Chromosomes... I don't want to hate my sister but her morals and body are the damn halcus Yet I worry for the men who love her,