Consider the genders as separate each with a mask set by fate this would be the funny if it were not for the horrors set loose once more roles ascribed to a *** bending a knee to do their part though supplication will destroy when power shunts the outcome’s goal
to save the weak from themselves monstrous babies without resolve unable to slake appetites instead the other must find a way sacrifice to this goal placed on an altar with all around bending heads in a fervent chant the blood will let to the man
reject these offers of suicide a living death while alive saving those who are misled by the group’s droning lies while traditional may show bias ascribing tasks by outward look this is hardly carved in stone though society would like it so
consider genders are divorced from slaughter chutes that serve discord when both genders are abused by the dogma of past rules sacrifice will have its place alongside love and clayed feed each *** with pursuing the very best while being flawed in life’s eyes.
The poem “Slaughterhouse Chutes” was written in response to a meme that stated, “the right woman can change a devil.” My initial response was, “the right devil can destroy a woman.” I am very much for avoiding the latter, destruction of an individual. The changing of a single devil is not worth the legion of women destroyed in the attempt.