Qrious Beauty Poem by P.R. Prosper

She’s a dangerous woman, of an evil sort
A conniving young thing, with a beauty of course
Calculating more than Texas Instruments
She’s very rational when it’s time for injuring

Pushes the right buttons like she’s entering codes
Just to toy with you, she’s not after your gold
Entices crowds of all burning men
They unknowingly enter a tournament

Lose their vision with one bat of her eyes
Their hearts all babble to speak with this prize
She calls each one by one as if they're the winner
Then brushes them off with a wag of her finger

Qrious, she keeps up a clever defense
Teaches men to never say never again
Though feeling betrayed they go where she goes
She’ll break them all down
Like a gorgeous tornado