This one was not the thot they thought, her sword would break right on the spot—a girl would come to shout—beware!—then mention how she’d pull their hair. She saw her fate and made the choice—she’d come for none except their voice. Her will would break for one’s hard gaze, her fury thrown would burn to haze, she’d melt and laugh and be seen through, her posture would be shown untrue. The melty moans and silence wrought would teach of what she’d really sought. A one to take her mind out whole and let her play her favorite roll. That brightest heart which shined and fed a one who’d take her straight to bed.
