Thought for Food
Weep for the body of the daughters of the earth
Draped in the terrible beauty of prejudice.
There is no judge but the harrowing sense
Of inadequacy donned by womanhood.
Patriarchy? No. This is our own doing.
The carving of our own bodies for the sweet sacrifice
Of our own love.
A lament is due; for the elegance lost in the phantoms of darkness,
The grace of beauty unsaved by the shining door
Into the world we can only call our own.
This is darkness. This is sadism perpetuating the shadowy halls of
The Kingdom Come.
Thy will be done before thy time is due.
From the phoenix rises mere skeletons,
Ghosts of lions on the catwalk
Of unspoken fear.
Fear yourselves, daughters.
The only enemy is the one you were born to love
But starved to hate.
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