Below an unsatisfied stomach,
Between tired legs,
I hold your future.
That which you conceal
and exploit as pleasure
That which you call
a Woman's Bane,
I claim it back.
I celebrate - not in victory,
But in vengeance.
Between tired legs,
I hold your future.
That which you conceal
and exploit as pleasure
That which you call
a Woman's Bane,
I claim it back.
I celebrate - not in victory,
But in vengeance.
No comments:
Post a Comment