Feminist Poetry - Blog Posts

"And one day I realised all I could do was give up and lay down, let it go. Or," They talked like they were stripping. Taking of their layers and showing them the ruined city beneath, daring almost pleading for them to run away from her darkness. "Destroy their dreams as finely as they did mine. Make the stars combust and become something so destruction that I laugh as their cities are blown away by burning starlight falling from the sky. I think my body had become too cold and numb for real fury, so that I decided," she looked up at them, regretful but also... defiant, andry. "To let fire speak for me. Because justice darling" cynically they ended "was never an option. "

All that blood was never pretty,

But they did so love the sound of warhorns,

Perhaps they went into every battlefield thinking,

This time it'll be rubies instead.

I was made from mismatched pieces,

God's leftovers,

A warrior's heart,

And a dreamer's mind

And a gentle soul

And a chaotic existence.

Then they shoved me in this tiny little useless body, and sent me into battle.

Without ever teaching me to fight,

Or bothering with armour.

—I was never meant to survive, was I?

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Maybe we're all tragedies,

Covered in skins

too stubborn to be tragic.

I'm don't think I'm a person,

Anymore.

I'm likely just a place

For daydreams to rest before

Finding someplace better now.

But is that something to mourn when I never truly knew,

What being human felt like...

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Don't mistake me

When I say I'm lovely when I cry it's ugly,

cheeks red and wet with snot.

It's just that I've made a habit of finding tragedy beautiful.

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I was raised to gobble on harsh words only,

My food pipe has stretched to swallow slanders,

My stomach has a special kind of acid to melt metal;

And my intestines are meant to grind any remaining matter to fine dust.

How to deal with kind words?

Of that, I have no idea.

Are they supposed to loll in my mouth like caramel candy

Or melt like chocolate?

Will the honey sting if it touches my bleeding tongue?

It will be lost between the blood and spit before reaching my stomach anyway.

—Be gentle with me please.

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If you're looking to like me,

Don't go looking under my skin.

There are stories there that even I have forgotten I buried.

I'm made of molecules old as this universe, and Sometimes under my skin; it shows.

There exist hidden acloves you may never find your your way back.

And some black holes that stare back at you.

Be safe in my heart instead,

Where the carefully curated kindness and empathy and sunshine personality is kept.

Under my skin is where I store the behind the scenes stuff;

The scars and the traumas.

But if you're looking to love me;

Well, enter at your own risk.

—i just hope I don't disappoint.

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I wasn't born with my head cut open

For you to fill with recreations of your own trauma

Like a tragedy bin.

I won't let you mangle

My mind and body

Till I can't see skin beneath the scars.

I will resist;

Brutally and unattractively;

— With fire and blood.

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