I am a woman
I am a woman expected to heed every beck and call - expected to be weak and silent. They see me as a stool, a stepping stone on their way to a throne built of the bones and dignity of my sisters before me. They expect me to be underfoot - to be swayed and painted on like a doll for their entertainment; a shiny toy to be displayed and played with. But the most painful wounds are inflicted by those you least expect to strike. I am thunder, I am lightning - the anger slowly brewing before exploding; the glint of the sword before it slices you in half, the creak of the bow before an arrow pierces you. I am the fire to burn down your arrogance, the numbing chill as the fear creeps in. Within my veins flows the sea to drown you in, and the drought to crack your hardened flesh. Your fortress shall crumble from the force of your undoing, and you shall be crushed by the weight of your sins. I am the hurricane that shall bring you to ruin, and the cold breeze that whispers: You are finished.

















