<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=495216" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The second woman</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I first met her, she was coy and meek <br>And too kind <br>I like her, and she likes me too, <br>And she was aging and needed comfort <br>For her waning days, <br>She brought along a younger woman <br>One with whom I can <br>Truly make love, and where we can be <br>That is her motive, <br>Productive. <br>She is happy and waits for the gift <br>A child to be frank <br>But God must have something against her <br>What she does what she is <br>There is no baby for her <br>There is no gift <br>From heaven </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her anger is super, and she plans to take <br>Away from me, <br>Feeling defrauded, she wants to <br>Take back everything: this house, this car, this <br>Chair, and slowly she carts away my parts: my hands <br>My heart, my arms, my toes, my chest, my head <br>And we struggle, I cannot allow this thievery, I must <br>Not allow this misery; I am taking every lost part back. <br>She must be stopped. <br>She says she owns the younger woman and she <br>Must be returned back <br>At once. <br>She takes her <br>And she will die. <br>She does not care. <br>She takes what she wants to. <br>She will be coming back to take what she owns. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She takes one step inside my door. <br>I have a gun and she is not superwoman.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=495216" data-title="The second woman de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="When I first met her, she was coy and meek And too kind I like her, and she likes me too, And she was aging and needed comfort For her waning days, She brought along a younger woman One with whom I can Truly make love, and where we can be ..."></div> </div> </div>

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