much lost I fear,
for we give birth
to baby girls then
don't hold them near.
We push them into
the desert of doubt,
and the desert of
shame as we
were in the same bout,
as we grew up
wondering why we
had gotten so bad,
and why this embarrassment
and distance from dad?
Why does this constant
stream of the judge
flow to and from us
and through it we trudge,
down the long pathway
to full whole true sex,
realizing at this late date
we were under a hex,
of ignorance, malice,
competition and vice,
and success was left to
the turn of the dice.
For who encountered us
when we were as then,
would wonder what
demons were inside our head.
Layers and layers
of societal pleasing,
burdens of money
and image outside,
dampened the fire
responsible for teasing,
the fire of passion,
the deliciousness of
a pure long hot bath
of the forbidden love
that counterbalances
the history of doubt,
and results most probably
in various shouts
of competitive power moves
to reclaim our position
of invalidation and lack of fruition.
Now I stand before you
with a strong and wide stance,
owning my power
and leading the dance,
of full messy bodily
functions of life,
and cutting the cords
with a serrated knife,
wavy and sharp to cut
quickly right through,
the polite safe and docile
rules blinding you too.
--EVE
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