Mimicry of Societies Face
What is this curve of grace
the mimicry of societies face
that my hands flutter and tuck
in a feminine coy pretense?
How have I become the mirror of copy print
and my mind
the Abyss of self doubt,
When my ancestors were queens of battle?
….I have been strained of strength.
In a filter of male perceptions
I pose beneath a gaze
I don’t remember choosing.
Curse you Aphrodite.
For your lies and deceit.
For selling your hand maidens
to the strike of Zeus’s lust.
You have abandoned me.
I have abandoned myself.
Where is the audacity of my youth?
While I tremble at the crones final stage?
This was not to be my ending.
Self-hatred and loathing.
My own ineptness robbed
My own inner furnace.
My soul cold in barren wilderness
My heart stolen, and purpose foregone.
I’ve sold my sister coven
For the silver in an enemies purse.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
