I am not your ‘daughter’.
I am not a piece of flesh you bought to serve your meager torpid ‘needs’.
You insolent fool.
I am a Queen in my Own Right.
Your touches are revolting.
An insult to my skin.
Stirring a fire of rage inside me that could eat you up.
Get out of my way.
For you’ve tested my patience enough.
You can’t dim me.
If you had the eyes to see, you wouldn’t step foot within my vicinity.
You’d cower like you do behind social convention, patriarchy and false masculinity.
I have denied my rage for far too long.
But I can no longer contain what wants to burst from within me.
To protect your frail ego.
Or to pamper the twisted facade of femininity you wish to see in me.
Like a soft river of glowing Pāhoehoe lava.
Overflowing with billowy grace.
Commanding it’s path with sculpting fervor.
Deceivingly soft but wrathfully ablaze.
Set foot on my path and you’ll be incinerated.