FEMPIRE

bud of 
bitterness
from the
harvestless

just
saccharin
when pickins'
are slim

on my lips
a tang
of raw
sugar cane

in the tall
grasses
a reap of
molasses

invested in
stalk
left over
crop

nothing was
lost
but the
burning moss

out of
the fire
built my
fempire

no
substitute
for low hanging
fruit

life's a
candy store
have keys
to the door

of the land
i am lord
crowned
femperor

tastes so
sweet
oh my
what a treat

a delicious
flow
outta what
i've sown