I am a daughter of a master, whose divine hands moulded me to be the flawless beauty that I am. My spotless and ever glittering skin resemble a refined gold that can never be bought or traded for anything. I am a heavenly lady lent to the universe to ignite the dead to life.
My spongy but enticing breasts are the pride of my bosom and fruitful well for the unborn offspring. Yes, you can envy them, admire them but you cannot have a holy feast with them unless I permit you. I have glossy legs which surpasses the sun in brightness and they symbolise the sovereign charisma of my original design and only a deserving angel can caress them, not some random tailless he.
I also have a well-shaped figure whose vigour eliminates the trends of criticism and shuts the mouths of foes who pray for my fall. My butt comprehends the crown of my angelic dazzle, a flag of honour for those following me from behind and a gift of pleasure to my angelic he. Again, you have no right to dine with my butt unless I buy your ticket to the matrimonial feast.
My dazzle is that of an endless kingdom, my crown of pride emanates from the contentment of knowing that I am one in a million and the only one of my kind in this lifetime. Should you see me overflowing in endless smiles and inexplicable delight, don’t assume that I have any romantic roots attached to your craving heart – I am only being the angel of my design.
I love to wear make-up but I prefer my natural, stunning look which also compliments my undiluted, glowing natural hair, which I normally soothe to attract the attention of my glory. I’m not just a woman or a girl but a lady of calibre, one whose worth is not superficial but prominent enough to earn the worship of the stars of the sky and the moon of the night.
I have divine hips, which might tempt your sexual appetite to the holy bed of roses but it’s not my intention, neither is it my fault. Don’t dare lay your unruly fingers on them unless I have signed a permanent contract with you in the politics of Adam and Eve, lest you silence my beauty and offend the beast in me.
My shoulders are buttery smooth, don’t stab them with your corrupt claws. My smile is pure, don’t use it against me. My womanhood is my pride, don’t abuse it – it is the factory of future generations. My body is my palace, don’t come in unless I have invited you. Respect my personal government and I might give you charm of gratitude.
Should you find me drowning in the river of sorrow, give me pure rescue and clean cuddles that will not hasten your heart to kiss a wrong impression, an impression of sexual gratifications. Don’t kidnap my dazzle, don’t manipulate the crown of my glow – I am not your object. Like any other lady, I have dreams, dreams to electrify the world and make it a heaven on earth – don’t burn my dreams with your fires of jealousy, insecurity, comparison and silly accusations.
Don’t come near me if you’re a pervert, I’m allergic to such demonic creatures. Don’t offend the owner of my heart, his punishment is harsher than earthly imprisonment. It’s fine if you don’t like me, I want not born to be liked but to ignite. Don’t give me favours I didn’t ask for because I know that your heart contains toxic tendencies of a serpent. I cannot be fooled, I’m a lady of calibre.
When my clothes match the brilliance of my body, applaud me from afar and refrain from sending signals of a desperate date, which only end up in an unholy bed of destructive roses. I didn’t ask to be a gorgeous queen but since I am, my kingdom functions through ethical conducts that only angels can handle.
Don’t strangle my neck like a worthless chicken, I am someone’s daughter and that priceless gift created to enlighten the dark world.