nor everything nice. It was gore and violence.
Ring around the rosey was about death.
Just girls night out
cut off a man's head, then meet in the night,
drive them quietly mad - with our silence -
Pin them againist each other.
The Trojan War. Cleopatra.
Taj Mahal.
For our next trick,
watch us bleed every month
a baby boy is born, chaos magick.
See a little girl will catch a bug,
hold it close, kiss it,
and watch it die in a jar.
Crying her friend is gone,
having set it all into motion.
Write each man
a letter in my menses
painfully frought.
Just with the taste of iron
flowing freely out of me,
I could forge a thousand swords
and fight everyone of you.
But I dont.
Cause Womanhood has the horror
you'll never know, cowards puffed up.
While we wear a thorny crown, call it fashion.
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