Miss Shaped With that hourglass figure shifting sand from one orb to the other She knew her time was ripe. Walking into the alleyways of wilderness swamps where lurked men of all contortions of mind and body She met her match in mister muscle.
Not a nerve twitched in her entire body when he flexed his biceps and wooed her with no words.
The years of steroids had tied his tongue into strips of knots and crosses unable to stop pumping iron.
Miss Shaped loved this muscular feast of a man.
The years rolled by for misshaped
mr muscle had no iron in his heart only triceps biceps he left when too many wildebeest chased his moll. Author Notes
Just a crafty play on words with several different meanings. The poem will dull you into deception. Say what you will to break it apart.