Retrograded Girlhood
Bygone was innocence…
Its sparser burnt Ash, embedded exquisite crossover;
He In Her
The world is behind me,
But I bend in front of them;
No one knows this mystery,
In every way I am hidden in them;
Home: Painted with Blood
That kitchen cooked rotten food,
To serve her in that terrible hell;
Her chapped lips marinated with blood,
Felt burnt at every attempt to touch;
Feminism’s Inner Voice
Can’t I fetch,
The cage of my dreams;
To hide it in secrecy,
Far from stubborn reach;
Feminism 2.O
The wall whose mason are you,
With cement of preservative thoughts;
They are enough to make me claustrophobic,
They make me very suffocated in their tiny holes;