Ode to an Opressor

By Rachelle King

Sociological constraints and invasive ideology burns me questions me reality so badly that I could never possibly match the insignificance you breed in me and when I swallow the whole of you down my tubes you go for the whole pie instead of a slice and I cannot possibly bear to see you this way. With children you play…

Screaming like the wind through a crack in a stained glass window, I voice my opposition. Almost silent, you could only hear if you walked into the room. Then, upon hearing the noise you would investigate. After discovering the cause of the irritating sound, you would stuff an old dirty rag in the crack.

That’s me, a crack with an old dirty rag stuffed in. The same dirty rag my ancestors had stuffed in their faces. The same dirty rag I’ve had intoxicate me from youth.

Rise up, my begotten ancient tongue. Strength festers in your womb. Finally, you birth the next generation of “feminist” antics. Never knew that possessing the ideology of a women that refuses to submit to a man’s world was really just an antic or a point of fuckin view.

Talkback: Post Reply | View replies (0)