by Tehya on Tue Oct 24, 2017 3:48 pm
A formidable woman always dressed in red
Hate ran through her as her victims bled
Lived to have their fates twisted
Even the mighty resisted
What became of her no one knows
Her lovers were thrown to the pits of hell
Until one man came into her life
That man knew her weak spot
Everyone has one you know
Hate and rage fell on deaf ears
Instead a smile and touch was returned
How long could he keep her in that favored cage
Who knows
Remember that twist and turn of supple flesh
Is something that is always fresh
He laps her like sweet cream
Not realizing the hate he has yet to see
Some say the shrew is locked away
Off yonder beyond the cage
Cries of lust can’t be denied
He has spun her in his web
The shrew is no longer dressed in red
Flowers burst at her feet
A ritual of her defeat
Shrill cries when she sees marks of his crest
He has even marked her breasts
Such a lovely one in blue
No longer the town shrew
The quill is dropped to the scroll
Wicked lash of her whip slashed the poet’s hands
Blood splattered everywhere
They say she stole the poet’s soul
Again dressed in red
When she walked away
Leaving many men half dead
Make men flee from this ritualistic shrew