Glazed glaucoma eyes
Scares, scars.
A scam, A sham.
The cherubs pranced around Aphrodite
In bacchanal fervour
Vying for attention.
Spitting arrows from their sugar-coated tongue
Not even hitting-
Bull's eye!
Hit the G-spot!
Aphrodite quivers,
entertaining the frolicking abominations
Maternal instincts overrule her warning system
Deceitful webs spun saccharinely; full of praises
Sing hymns in her honour, harken her glorious youthful days
But little do those little cherubs know that it takes two hands to clap.
Those imps in cherub's masks
are not the only one with porcelain faces.
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