October 1st And Her Spawns Poem by Chinonso Uche

Some doubt if she’s ever gona be a beautiful queen
Something with value or anything close to that…
O! Ye men of little faith,
Thou art never would believe there would be a thing like perfect
.
That word seems to her, impossible
But who is she?
She is you and you are her
You being her make everything about her dependent on you.
Remember what they say about women...
Treat her so kind, that she may shine forth and make you proud.
But sir, everybody’s doing it, I’d emerge gauche
But who are you?
You’re not everybody, but somebody
Mind them not; they're occupied by the hater
Hate them not, as they're one of hers and one with her
Show them the way for together we stand and divided we fall
Say not 'let me do it just this one last time'
For last time never exists, since every time counts
Time is precious and has no bargain, swap, price or cure
When I looked at the time to create this line
Her clock had ticked 51 about 25-minutes ago
She’s ageing, and if she's a man,
She’d cry for her days are numbered.
Knowing that a fool at 40 is a fool forever
Why then do you treat her like shaft?
If she's your mama,
Would you allow her to remain a fool of the moment by saying?
'Let me do it just this one last time”
You may not know it that whenever you do it just this one last time,
You’re making your mama a huge fool of the moment as she's your mama.
Now, stop that wrong from you, for you, to you and do that right in you
That she may shine forth and make you proud
I tell you brothers
The reverse to absolute formal glory and greatness of hers, lies in our hands
It’s as simple as ABC’s and it begins with you.