Chernobog
Brown eyes, brown haze drinking me in, making me yours; objectifying me.
But I am mine, yet you stand there and right me in the ways you believe are wrong.
I have withered and died a thousand times today, but you see only warm blood; you smell it, and you feed from me.
Do not say that I can change, for you know me not. I have lived a dozen lifetimes more than you and your minuscule existence.
Will you not release me from your gaze, brown eyes, brown haze? For you see me not for what I am; you merely see me as a woman whom surely shall endure and be subservient.
When you’re at last gone the air before me allows the stench of your misogyny to linger and I know, I know, I know I shall see you again, here and henceforth for the rest of my life.
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