Submission

The pain
Ingrained,
In the face
Of no voice,
Nameless.
Shamed.

The screech,
It beckons
the eyes to a sight.
Horrendous.

Her struggle for a name,
For an entity,
To save face.
Endless.

Is it a woman who must beg,
For a saviour,
A friend,
Is she incapable of all else?
Defenceless.

Is it right for a woman
who doesn’t conform
to the norm,
To be treated as a threat?
To be placed as second best?
For she is but just a woman.

Inferior.

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Inconcievable

-Unable to fathom the pain evident,

In tired, heavy hearted souls;

I continue, Smiling.


My laughter lines contradict those,

Ingrained upon their foreheads.

Their heavy hearted souls examine

The empty heartedness of mine.


I am lost; in the bliss of my discoveries,

They are lost; in the bleakness of fate.

Their interests mimic my own.

So why am I not aggrieved?


Why do I fail to feel?


I see her crawl from the Jaws of Death.

Painstakingly, Laboriously, Narrowly.


Though I see what I see, I do not see.

They are encapsulated in prayer;

In the hopes of a miracle, divine.

I am encapsulated by life’s pleasures.

Their souls are pure,

Mine is embroiled in its dark abyss.


Yet whilst their heavy hearted souls tire,

As she crawls from Death himself,

I smile.