I was eleven years old
when mother sat me down
and taught me about girls
and their wily ways
how they have long nails
to bury in your flesh
longer hair, to strangle you
and sweet words
to lull you into false joy, while
my father, around the corner
listening behind a newspaper
wondered if he
was ensnared the same way.
A heathen poet 
Haha! I love this – great payoff 🙂
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