Long ago, the spinsters was planted,
she would wear long dresses, and live by the prescribed
rules, that were not rules at all.
The spinsters whore her hair up,
and was not pretentious,
secretly inside lived a raging
angry whore.
She would tear at the spinsters,
and have her do things that she
would not normally do.
Tucked away deep inside of her soul.
This woman lived, and breathed,
she ate and she loved,
she hated, and she fueled,
devouring all the things that the
kind spinsters would come across.
She robbed the spinsters,
of her mind, her thoughts,
her feelings, Goodness was abandoned.
Shrewed, lued, and angry.
Fist balled, and cursing,
drinking, smoking, and grabbing.
Careful of the words you use,
you can kill,
or be killed.
How different are you than the killer of one's soul.
The curser,
the taker,
the thief.
Robbing simple minds of goodness.
If you are so much better than throw the
first stone, but all of us will stand to be judged,
and the spinsters, and her whore, will bear their
judgment together.
When were the spinsters, and how have you become the whore.
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