And now when I scream
I no longer have the satisfaction of an echo,
Nor of any sound at all

You cannot see how much you judge others
When you direct that judgement most harshly
Into yourself

you unwittingly hold others to the same standard
you abuse yourself with
External reflections of your most internal loathings

Nor do you see that the criticism which you raze against your self
You raze against those who admire you


The daughters' mother cannot bear
Her own visage

What is a woman?
She is too much
.
Too much joy, like her heart is a bird which beats wildly against the cage of her chest,
(the cage Adam gave her, keeping her together)
Too much pain to contain alone, a tether
To the hands of those who might abuse her
.
Too unrestrained in love that it spills into the world freely, unknowing of the price
Too free in this jealous world, that seeks to condemn what it cannot consume,
Ex lovers, or demons she dare not exhume
.
Too much place in her skin, too much shine in each tress
Too much space in her limbs, so she must become less
So much beauty and life, to love and to touch
She knows what she wants, a little too much
.
Too tender to be broken, so she must become tough

And what is a man,

But not enough

His arms
Wrap around my naked corpse
Is he holding me (is he giving up?)
Or am I letting go

Blinded once again,
I succumb easily
To good men with bad intentions.
X
We all have our weaknesses.