The Octopus in her


must be an octopus


pulling those who meander by

into your close communion

even without their permission

crying, you are mine! you are mine!

what a bore!

you! octopus woman!

I see through your secret agenda

I smell many things fishy

I know even before you forsee


you are worse than an evangelist!

scheming to convert

planning to plant seeds of love

when there is neither rain or earth

looking eagerly to hug

and hold, ha! what a tight hold!


you octopus of a woman!

I wish I could never had to meet you

know you or care about you

I wish your dangerous sweet potions

of love, care, mushiness

was not ever trusted by me

ha! I did and how!

it ruined me for life

you, octopus of a woman

with your jazzy snazzy tentacles

armed with smiles dangerous

a voice too sweet to be true

intentions malicious

I trust thee not

you octopus woman.