To be a woman is to be the pillar you rest on.

Mending your imperfections, the priest of your mission, your Aaron.

Her embrace is a protection to your skin like an Apron.

Like art in the hands of an artiste, she brings color to your shade, like a crayon.

She’s although regarded as a pawn, the least powerful for not being brawn.

Yet you are drawn to be around her, when your brawn strength fails, and like an octagon,

you are bent on every side, what an oxymoron.

She’s like krypton, the source of your super being.

She saves you from depression, and puts you on an high elevation. She’s heroine.

      To be a woman, is to be a supporter at length in any case.

she shoots adrenaline into your system, with a simple smile and gaze.

And makes you a beast in that race, skipping over every hurdle in your space.

And just in case you miss the ace,

she calms the storms of your mind, in a loving embrace.

      For to be a woman, is to love unconditionally.

To run with you through every lap to finale.

She doesn’t seek perfection, she’s an academy.

Your advisory, in the face of adversity.

With the warmth of her arms, she takes your agony.

upon herself like a mordsith.

And even in the clutch of the keeper, like darken rahl, you’ll enjoy her loyalty.

For to her, you are an unbroken royalty.

And against your every odd, she screams like a ban-shee foresees the red sea and parts it with glee.

      For to be a woman, is to defend with brute.

Yes she saves like a parachute.

But her hands is on the AK 247, and against the plotter of your FK she’ll shoot.

For to touch her man or cub, is to cahoot with her soul ripping canine.

Oh yes, she’s sweet like sugar but there is a Cain in her that murders on jealousy

When you cross the borderline with her bloodline.

      To be a woman is to preserve life.

To be a wife and a mother, giving rise to a new generation, and that could mean a lot of strife.

She buys, cooks, boil and fries.

She washes, squeezes and dries.

And when a problem suffaces, she analyze then improvise.

She brings home supplies, tries hard to suffice.

Her thighs bears us up at day, and at night soothes Daddy’s pains.

  For to be a woman, is to be all in all,

Here and there,

Soldier and Civilian,

Brutal yet Loving,

Queen and Slave,

Wife, Mother, Friend, and a thousand things more,

All at calculated proportions.

For to be a woman,

Is to bear the balance of the world like God purposed.

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