Clothed me in strength
I have decided to stop breaking my bones, trying to fit into places I don't belong.
My feet is too sore to walk onto broken glasses from the rocks that you threw.
My hair is to sensitive, to time and time again comb it with a thorn brush.
My voice is gone from screaming , I'm too tired to compete with other pussys for you.
I'm too raw to be eaten by you, my taste can not be controlled by your immature tongue . My aroma upsets your aura, so much that you can't focus or understand why I am so intense. It troubles you to not fully know me, you have not discovered how to use your third eye to see my beauty. I'm a mystery , a hard rock, a sort of fruit that only grows in the mist of a magical forest.
Copyright © Mafata Dunbar | Year Posted 2016