MIS(S)FIT
I’ve been holding on to this one for a while feeling like it was just “too much” kinda like me, but I’m done packaging myself into neat little bite-sized portions for the masses to easily consume. If they can’t swallow my truth whole, well, they can just choke on it. 🖤-C
“These Tempered Edges Will Not. Be. Worn.”
MIS(S)FIT
A Failed Madonna
demoted to Whore
A pawn just for you
to hate or adore
Desensitized and disillusioned
through systematic collusion
I detest your condescension
and reject societal intentions
I have no affections
left for proffer
There is no treasure
in this coffer
So cease your toil,
this is stark
and barren soil
Cull the notion
of seeding love
and cultivating
obedient devotion
There is no depth
to inbox transgressions
sown with erotic aggressions
The burden of your obsessions
distorts My Singularity-
I am NOT your Trophy!
Don’t come menace me
with your binds of
monogamistic Atrophy.
My No is not a challenge
to conquer with romantic incessance
you’re a grinding wheel against My Nature
attempting to contort My Essence
But These Tempered Edges
Will Not. Be. Worn.
Such Loathsome impositions—
your Gendered Expectations.
Spitting my Disdain
on domestic obligations,
patriarchal postulation,
and feminine subjugation
Retract your projections
All your emotional intentions
This heathen is godless;
I am not your Goddess
No shackled Aphrodite
to massage your injured psyche
I’d sooner be The Succubus
insatiable and covetous
Now light the torch
and start the blaze
Avert your eyes
I Am Medusa’s Gaze.
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