METAMORPHOSIS
Then, she was a flower that
emitted rays of beauty
in vile gardens,
the sparkle that chases
gloominess from
cloistered caves of love.
Her fragrance was sweet and
her gaze, the perpetual need of
lewd men who seek earnestly
for vitamins contained in
milky organic reservoirs
Not until she sold her pride
on the street of ardor for twenty silver
pieces; a barter which
plagued the city between her thighs
with wanton batallion of lice,
Now she rambles around with a skin
exfoliated with soda, it's layers akin to
Jacob's spotted lambs; and her soul
which oozed out incense of
celibacy is now shattered by
lover boys who upload epistles coined
from the bellies of demons to
hearts of young dames
© Daniel Ezeokeke
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