Juicy drops from crimson red,
You beckon her and she seeks you.
Caressing her lips, you stole her heart.
But the slitherer she blames and not your looks.
With you in hand and heart astray,
She danced for him, seeking his face.
Alas, her king fell, not for her, but for you.
When they came round, the deed was done.
Innocent hearts were no more.
Man’s nature must assign blame.
And his life’s mission is who to charge.
The slitherer’s hiss or your juicy drops,
The queen’s dance or the king’s lust.
Image credit: pinterest