What if the worst were to happen?
Would I be forced to feed its parasitic seed?
At the end, when its seed is extracted,
It will have drained my soul, trust, hope, and joy.
Once the seed is planted,
My humanity has been ripped from me.
I’ll be nothing but a wilted flower;
Dried from the inside out.
The decaying, fallen petals are my tears of melancholy;
What little of me is left will be a husk,
Of the woman I used to be.
(That’s what she said.)
A limerick Trigger warning: Domestic abuse Knowing just how to scream Hades’ name was Persephone’s most debasing shame. Though she attended his needs…Spit, or: Swallow
When I look in the mirror,
There’s always a crack;
It cannot be fixed,
Or filled in.
The more I touch it,
The more it grows.
It seems to follow me,
In every mirror,
At every age,
At every size,
In every lighting.
Living with this crack is exhausting.
I’ve tried covering it up,
But it always shows through.
My Faith has withered, its leaves have all turned brown; The once luscious blooms turn dark, the edges start to crumble.
“I’m going through a hard time” has turned into “I have a hard life”. Nothing else can exist; Nothing will ever be enough to satisfy the black hole that resides in place of your soul.
A once deep adoration is now dead; The petals are being plucked and only the rotten stem remains.
I have no trust, no faith,
But I am free.
I will spread my wings of fiery conviction; My faith is now in myself: A lonely lotus with he frog prince, a Phoenix with her fiery spirit.
I am the Autumnal Phoenix.