Is it the diamonds between your legs that turn these men in lascivious beasts?
The cupid’s bow of your mouth giving them an insatiable feast – like manna from heaven they clamour but only at first.
Is it the freedom in your laughter that makes them seek your confinement? Your personalised Pandora’s box?
Or the care in your words and the softness of your bosom that reminds them of the mother they never had; the affection makes them run mad. They wish to martyr this mother.
Be careful beautiful sisters who are blessed with those glorious wreaths around your heads
There are men who wish to enslave you and have you make your bed among the stars
Do not let your purity of heart fool you.