Birthmark

She came from the ground, That beautiful woman! Made from mud and soil Lying to you, lying alone Her body relaxed, Her femininity exposed Poked and prodded Stroked and caressed She does not know Which hurts the least Born again fools You created her Won't you at least Give her a home Lips puckered, Touching herself, The birthmark Of the fairer sex Her skirt is pushed Far up beyond her waist You sigh when she flinches At the sight of your soiled hand You think she's asking for it She thinks you're just taking it