There really is no gender trap
perhaps a teensie weensie gap,
but one thing needs to be proclaimed
it's once a woman's scorn has aimed
it will with great determination
jerk out your balls from hibernation.
She loves you not because you look
like Clooney or that Hilton cook.
Oh no, she set her teeth and claws
and fulminating menopause
inside your dull innominates,
not for consent nor for debates.
A woman is her own best foe.
I told you so. I told you so.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem