Hell fire shall
Rain on her
Pretty polished nails,
Filed to perfection.
Ready to slice at any man
That tries to stand in her way.
They thought they could control her.
Born from the ashes
Of the men left
On war grounds.
Like the statues they built to worship
She stands tall.
Gun powder used
To contour her cheeks.
Jaw so sharp
Could cut tension
So thick
Blood red, vibrant, alluring, seductive
Blood from her brothers
Who lay lifeless
On the battlefield
They thought they were gods
Building war machines
That could kill a dozen
But one look from her was
Far more dangerous than
Any man-made metal.
So Kneel before her
Pretty painted toes
Because she is
The Goddess of War.
YOU ARE READING
Don't forget to water the roses
PoesíaPoetry for The weary, for the undecided and "can't hide it" for the somedays and will be's for the love struck and the newbies. These words will flood your mind with inspiration, how to learn to forgive, and love. Not just someone else but yourself.
