We fare too shabbily to be landlords of cum,
dangling from a suspended sac of thin fertile flesh-
without a defined destiny,
only doing the bidding of our bearer.
In our flair,
we produce fair droppings.
We’re pious and pure serfs of he that bears us;
aiding him to create posterity by sailing white angels of liquid into her that CUMpletes him,
she holds our load for nine moons.
Nine thorough moons of hoarding our heavy yet easy, raw load.
Tolerant and obedient even when laden,
inspite of the press-ure of jobs and blows-
we’ve managed to stay tough and circular.
All about us are preeq-y resilient neighbours,
black thread-like outgrowths of nay importance;
we strive with hairs to even thrive!
Nonetheless, we don them as artifacts of our crown and brushes of our main, our mane,
And as if to trademark our humilation,
the manner with which he bangs us on every Ana through the anal is awe;
Like an s-expert and without respect!
He want(k)s us when he wank(t)s,
willing us to sprout seeds in millions for his pleasure.
We’re entrapped in his loins,
to help him live his tenure.
We’re fierce lions of the loins and groin/groan of the womb-man is our pride!