Flesh
But made in the shape
We call a woman
Sold like sheep
Harkened
One is selected
Her soul she has forgotten
With intention
When she leaves
Kisses
The coldest kiss
Paulo Coelho’s Maria
In eleven minutes
How many times
Someone to repeat
The profession oldest
And the kisses dead
Leave us alone
You have sold too much
Depicting our stories
Stories of pity
Don’t pity us
We wait for a Jesus
To change your dirt
Into a storm
We wait that one-day
This flesh
Will burn itself
Into some glory
But only you
If you let me be out
Of my shell
If the laws
And the religion
And the customs
And the morality
You created
With your lies and deceit
Only if we are free
From that stinking flesh of yours
Only if you realize
That I create
Only if
We could carry you by that storm
You and your accomplices
Flesh
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