Just another poem I’d written thus far.  Enjoy!!!

So clear you can see through,
to the bottom of the freshest lake,
so pure the fish haven’t had a clue,
near boiling temperature boils the lake.

How pure should a virgin be,
so to not hurt a virginity pride?
There she goes clueless as she be,
heart beats till temperature rises too high.

Steadily, she calms herself,
swearing not to swear under her breath,
oh, holy, please do not let me be someone else,
please purify me with your holy breath.

Too pure to even notice,
her world is being shaken to the core,
a shaken soul possesses by a fever of unholiness,
frustrating much as she can’t take it anymore.

Is it sane for one to be so pure?
A virgin’s fire would not yield to the wind,
as if the wind is a disease and never a cure,
thus a virgin begs her holiness to banish the wind.

Without the wind her world is empty,
her seeds are withering away in a silly stillness,
austere and ugly world she creates for her virginity,
yet she struggles to truly erase her fever of unholiness.