A woman is like a paper
When soak in water,
it will tear easily
When set in fire,
it will consume eventually
Crumble it,
trash it
...use randomly
But no matter how she was destroyed,
left behind
and treated the least
She will rise again with her mind anew
And portray a paper maché
with a variety of hue.
A woman maybe harmless
judging from her looks,
But who knows what is hidden
behind her nook.
And a paper cut may not be fatal,
But painful enough
to send chill
down
the
spine.
