A WOMAN

A woman gives her love to thee

And for thy children how bears pain

What we decide her fate's decree

A plaything for sex we maintain.

        An article of use, refuse

        With mood and whim and wish of ours

        As human being can't we muse

        And treat in way she always cowers.

A goddess call when self is meant

We worship but not with regard

With cunning hide our deep intent

And chance provid'd  we pounce like pard.

       We take her motherly womb for trade

       No grievous sin makes us afraid.