A raging poem
She looked very tired,
on that mirror that reflected
only the truth
As every women
tired of being
weak, fragile, strong, mother, bitch, saint, angel, slut, traitor, demoniac
whatever someone else decides.
We can’t remember how
it was before
before tiredness
before fighting
before giving up
She looked again,
black eyes staring back
only the truth, it says.
Fuck it. Break it.
Break the truth and
let’s live in our fantasies
Which, of course, are more real than truth.
