I am the body,
That’s been constructed and deconstructed
Hundreds and thousands of time.
The curve on my chest
Is an awe-striking creation,
Often provoking artists
To appropriate me as an art.
The dip in my waist
Is a matter of examination,
Often providing litterateurs
With premises to debate.
The movement of my arse
When I walk,
Ignites imagination.
The flow of my hair
When it flies,
Fuels desires.
I am often a lump of flesh
Without life.
Invoking curiosity to be touched.
The screams of my pain
When violated,
Validate my presence.
The scars on my skin
When burnt,
Prove my existence.
Through fire and the rain,
Through violence and the pain,
I harness my prowess.
I rise with a soul
That’s untouched.
I rise with a mind
That thrives.
The homogenous time awaits my ingenuity.
And I rise
As I was, I am and I will be.
No comments:
Post a Comment