She births poetry like a universe of constellations.
Sometimes,
she parts her lips like the hips of the woman about to bring magic into this world, the labour of her poetry is never easy, never smooth, difficult to stomach, but the words she births from her belly carry life like breath, like the fruit of the earth.
There is a beautiful pain to them.

-Nativity

Other times,
Her poetry was like good ***,
She parted her lips like the legs of a woman about to begin the most primitive form of Love, giving as much as she could take. Sometimes she would ride the poetry, reverse cowgirling it to the ****** of her ecstasy and other times, it would ride her,
Leaving its essence inside her.

-Inception

At one time,
She parted her lips like the mouth of a woman who is about to blow, your mind.
Never for her pleasure, it did nothing for her.
Her satisfaction lied solely in yours,
it was selfless, unselfish, an act of true altruism.
She broke for people, who loved people but did not love her.

-Misconception

But the first time,
She was the poetry, being birthed from the lips of the cradle of woman kind, the first time she was the magic, the life, taking her first breath, her first wisp of earth,
And it smelt like words that bleed, that change, that make love, that celebrate, that birth other words.
The first time she was the poetry, so the poetry became her.

-Birth

Once bitten,the poison intensifies.
Once fallen,the angel cries.
Once corrupted,a nation dies.
Once betrayed,Revenge survives.

Look at you,
your aggravated agony,
it flows through you,
the lust for indemnity.
You no longer hide,
the pain,it outlives you.
The humiliation inside,
Revenge,it seeks you.
Regain the selfish pride,
else suffering,it awaits you.
At long last you must decide,
if not,
this sense of shame,
it'll **** you.

You couldn't hurt a fly,
now you must dispose off the swarm,
it would only be fair to try,
and cause a bit of harm,
to those who hurt you,
to those who deceived you.
Time for bitter coldness is nigh,
enough hiding in the warm,
it won't help you.

No friend or foe,
shall follow your quest,
alone you are now,
do what you are at best.
Think not,follow instincts,
for all that thinking has slowed you down.
Your conscience is your enemy,
for all that morality,
has made you look like a clown.

Its the very code of life,
do unto others,
what they did to you.
Mustn't you suffer,
for such brave men are few.

Follow your heart,
finish what they started.
Crush those cretins,
for the vile they crafted.

Go out there,
show them what you're made of,
with all that scheming and plotting,
there's nothing to be scared of
so unshroud your fears,
abandon your courtesy,
put the fear in them,show no mercy