Weaponized Passion

Angry and filled with sorrow I weep.

My hands entwined before three eyes.

The past repeats its ceaseless woah,

While the future hides itself away.

My hands are outstretched before me,

Yet feel bound behind my back.

Their eyes scream at me in vain,

Lips a fraught straight line.

Rocks rain down from their hate,

Heavy and unrelenting this storm.

May it also put out the fire below,

The one that burns the pyre red.

May it unbind me from this shame,

Cleanse me of the man’s burden.

I bear no regret nor self disdain,

Merely another’s perception.

Scant of reason this supremacy,

Founded somehow in my own womb.

I worry for the great mother,

While a great father destroys her.

This volcanic and loathsome fire,

Fueled by the dead’s black sap,

Manifested from inferiority,

Disguised as superiority.

It forces beauty to erode,

Into a savory candy before bed.

This has been their only way,

Since the moon had been forgotten.

And the sun wondered backwards,

into hot smoke of its own making.