Sometimes they are old,
some behave cold.
others flash their gold
yet old men seem to get it
though odd they find the good
the good so simple,
Believe their bag of lies,
promising them heaven and all thats in the skies,
what a bag of lies.
Romancing and seducing them.
the so called 'players' of the game,
who have all the womens senses to control and tame.
yet their presence brings the good ill fame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem