Men, Money, and Fantasies Poem, by 𝓱𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓱, at My poetic side

I believe I deserve

everything I worked for,

'cause why would I ask

if I know I'd just want more?

I smell like vanilla

and something else exotic,

swaying with the moon

comes across as erotic.

I know what I'm doing,

marry a rich man

and pray in time

that I'll love him.

poor pitiful girls

with lace and pin curls

and the musk of his cologne.

no wonder I'm alone!

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