my body is not a canned drink,
In hold of sweet content,
Let open when thirst hold firm your throat to ransom,
And when you done,
You squeeze the can till another history is mapped on its scarred body.
My body is not a fairy wish,
Abracadabra brings on the danger table well prepared,
With extensive legs and tied hands on the bed pole,
And when Joy cums,
Wishes goes with the wind.
My body is not your storage facility
Where spills of squirts,
Plastered spoilt sperms,
Selfish orgasms,
Lay to rest.
My body is not your "spread - your - holes - bitch,
Hold the pillow tightly to your mouth,
Smile if it hurts,
Take 500 naira,
Let me traumatize the world between your legs",
My body is not your bitch control.
My body is not your command word,
"lay here bitch "
Your Pleasure factory,
Your experimentation room,
Your practice of weird fantasies
Your bag for aggression, regret, stress Dropping,
Your remote control,
Your" cover your mouth and accept each forceful thrust,
Your cum warehouse,
Your benefit best friend.
My body is a sacred temple,
Built on histories,
Of men before your fathers,
Of fighters, gods and goddesses.
I am a goddess,
On whose tip toes sacrifices are laid,
Prayers begging burning with incense to be accepted.
My body is a temple,
I am the goddess,
You should bow down to.