By Lamech Obare

She was a shot of tequila,
Gulped by every tippler.
She was a vase of carnations
Set on a high table,
For everyone to smell.

She was a lodge napkin,
To absorb their bodies’ muck
She was a cup of cappuccino,
To calm their tactile desires.

They contaminated her,
And she is contaminating,
The gullible satyriasis.
Soon, hearses will be
Moving around!

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