I wish for the older times
When a bad boy could be good
Makes us their shrines,
Instead of the inspiration for morning wood,

Where fathers would discipline,
Their boys who treat a women as an amatory,
Thinking like a simpleton,
Only with their anatomy,

What happened to the lioness?
We’re only hurt by the succubus
As pain cometh
As we try tears suppress

Why must a good women
Suffer for the horrid
With the stained linen,
For a dream so torrid,

All we want is to be respected,
Witnessed pain,
Just to be rejected,

Nothing is perfected,
Nothing pure,
Only selected,
For deceitful lure,

Why don’t we earn the respect?
We so desperately work for?
Because a man has a defect,
Easier is the *****.