Genera

She feigns a moan for the grown men
Who waddle over to wade in her flower
Who imbibe her body; inhale her heather
For those who would father the teenage martyr
Cast out and stoned by the hands of sinners
Emboldened by birth and right

From wealth to wealth
Fluid by fluid; liquid and lurid
Gyrations by generations
Eating generations
Beget the next martyr bathed
In pulsing neon lights

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