Scorn Her Not Poem by Richard Davis SR.

Scorn Her Not



Doom lords over the created by man
in image of gods created vision
Altered nor identifiable by hand
Crafted then constructed to be utterly abused
Until destructed, desolated, decimated then
Reseeded yet still receding into oblivion
An oblivion to which Doom Lords are oblivious
So come taste the sweetest fruit oh gentle man
And learn how the devils of women can be so devious.

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