I love women. They are child and beast. They have claws and teeth. They will rip you to shreds, if unwise enough to let them. Know the nature of that thing, you think you have. That tiger, in your bed...is always free, and you but fool yourself, to think another thing. Women are the moon, cold behind a brighter side, shifting and reflecting always...plotting, on their damn secret stone. I love women. I forgive them, of most things...but, I wont be hurt again.
Joo know?
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
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