The Martyr

Yes, she did it
Perfectly did what he perfected in
''For you my brothers, I do," repeatedly he said
And so he made us believe
Blindfolded, he could recognize every lass
From the perfume she sprayed
Every twerk, from behind, he knew the owner
Like a data institute, addresses and contacts
Our hero had in bulk
Whatever his eyes landed on
His itchy Fimbo ya Moi paved the way
And the way was booked in among the many others
An achievement or so he said
Did you not see?
Did you not hear?
How he boasted at the power of his
Magic, seductive words?
No prey would dodge his trap
Yes he excelled in his art
An unparalleled champion of undressing the weaker sex.

Warnings and praises came in equal measure
Foolishly chose praises as a treasure
The former him disappeared into vanity
A ghostly skinny creature with popped eyes
And visibly countable ribs emerged
The hungry supercilious soil swallowed voraciously
The useless meager fraction of him
Left behind from a trail of joyous feasting
By the big wicked friend
Anyway, he did it for us
He died for us
Who loathed and feared them.