I knew woga so well,
Even if she was dressed in rubies, I'd still notice her several miles away.
I have closed doors, shutters and curtains in hopes that she won't seep through the hidden crevices of my home.
I don't turn on the lights for fear of the monsters that hovers above me.
I fear the fingers that always finds its way down to my stomach to taunt, **** and poke my ulcer, I fear the known.
I fear the very thing that's in the air, in my sleep and in my head, the very thing that whispers uncertainties
Woga  keeps growing her monstrous army day by day and that's what scares me the most
My darling Woga loves when I cry myself to sleep on her lap. She takes pleasure in her soaked skirt, she loves when I surrender.
Woga loves dragging my weary body across hills and valleys, until the earth becomes the color of the very thing coursing through my veins.
She's a lover that can never be satisfied.