WOMEN HATE LOVE

My eyes have seen men down in heart throb pains
as to your holy emptiness that change;
in form of preying eagle's sail like saints,
the fig trees of their minds encounter sage.

The masculine feminism just breaks,
upheld to wear off like eroded plains,
as the belated mystery just shakes,
men fall in love and bound like summer's chains.

Like a spruce craft, man's emotions are torn,
bare, cold, distraught, a woman makes nigh draw,
as at his great queen reaches her small pawn,
see men's heart now jigsawed without a flaw;
but from dreams of pain they retire now
and to women's hate, they eternal bow.