Unfruitful Gate

I believe that woman was created from man.
I believe that woman, spoon fed him a venomous state.
Resisting him, I cannot.
All I dare to want, is his lips upon my own very labrum.
I crave for my feed; his essence, his warmth, upon my cold flesh.
I can feel him in my core.
I can cite his tar love.
Then, I frown and recall,
the poison I behold.
I drank from the forbidden lake, poison I now yield,
instead of the red we ought to have.
So behold,
I ought to cease the wretch that swims through my veins,
but my care is far too deep to join the unfruitful gate.
Life is riding by, moments to moments, swinging by.
Branch to branch, leaf to leaf. Till the brightest green, turns to the gloomiest darkest tile of grief .
Woman may have derived from man.
But ….I,
dare not to fall for one ever again.
For I, will open the jar of hell, release his sins, swim in his flames, unfold to his rage.
Be the woman the universe refuted to see.
A luscious, beautiful, bitter grape seed. Raised by the night, nursed Oceana with the moonlight; the woman I had become.
Once I drank from the valley of hell. Their sins streamed in my bloodline.
I forever became,
The raven of hell. – Di Maggio Carolina