These ******* fed you when you were still an innocent babe,
Between these legs of mine I cried and from beauty there was pain.
and yet you man whose media/society hyprocracy has become your GOD,
making you look down,
turn heads in shame,
on women who breast feed in public
why?

These golden opportunities given to you and I,
slowly slipping out of your hands not only because if you wanted it you could do anything just to get your hands on it,
but because you're defined by this so called hierarchy, 50 shades of skin tones, size, weight and body,
but if you don't fit into that category your nothing
you simply amount to nothing.
why?

You
Me
Us
brother,
sister,
mother,
father,
any figure.

when will you wake up from this superficial cloud we are all living?
breathing in the lies of how we should be living...
could this truly be what if means to be happy?

ode to the brave who still remain the same,
and will not allow anyone to try and change them because you are rare in this cruel world,
and your change is yet to come.

She is me, my mind is myself, a passion unto flame
there is no separation, no glorious difference
between shake and stem, emotion and logic
I have the fire of my soul, and it burns
everyone it touches

The twin of my self, my reflection of soul
watches from that small, cold place,
locked away in my mind; she cries
not screams of rage, but pity
she knows my enslavement
emotionally wounded
perpetually lost

Niether really knows the other; I don't know myself
Rage floods my veins, my mind quickens to hurt
words pour forth before I can stop them
filthy, terrible things that amaze me
If I know it hurts, I say it

He stands there too calm, he takes my bits of wraith
Pauses before speaking; I know my tongue cuts deep
he takes a breathe, speaks again, so calm
this only make my anger worse, fuels it
how can he be so terribly heartless?
how can he not see my pain?

The knife goes in again, sarcasm punches through; I have him
his exterior is shaken; he pauses again: close, so close
He patronizes me; trying to be soothing. I know his lies
I claim torture, cruelity, and punishment on his part
he is, after all enslaving, binding me
punishing all women everywhere; I give him argument,
my spittle; he uses logic, reason

I hate him; his words expose my hyprocracy, a reflective self can see
He turns what I say to nothing, insulting me: fuleing anger
he turns what I say I am against who I know I am
Pointing out my actions as childish,a betrayal
only makes me more angry

I know he loved me, but only now
one last letter, never sent
I found today; I think he
planned this, cruelty
the last word
his last, only
in death

Years have past, I remember this place
in my head, in a memory, in the past
where I was, if I had only known
If I might not have been
If I could have done

Questions drive me to write again, revistit, open unhealed wounds
Years and years, years and years, an almost enlightenment for me
So much time has passed, faded, bleached; I've changed so much
my bitter, tireless resentment, festoned, anchored reality
for making him leave, I created this world for myself
but in one small letter, he made me remember
how much I loved him; he loved me
simply because

He made me remember, how much he cared, loved, cherished & hurt
and let me see all our fights in new, shiney, bright light
by letting me remember something he would never do
let me make choices that would hurt me later
I was too selfish, too much pride

That letter he sent, I found far too, too late
reminded me of pride, our first, sweet night
how I wanted and he denied, he kissed, he waited
for just and only for me, he made me wait
and now he waits again, etheral

the conclusion drawn is by pings echoing in a bathroom stall
pings like the tings of a typewriter
pads of my thumbs will spell it out

if I've realized anything
of them very few realizations, is that I'm in love with you
and not in love with you at all

this hyprocracy leaves me frozen in place
can we continue on such bad insurance?