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A Women Has Died In Me

A woman has died in me

A woman of disease with a lack of peace.

An animal who would toil and ask nothing

A dried leaf who would flutter and flinch.

A victim of sex, an object of jest

Who would only moan at her best.

A giver of life, a dutiful wife

For the treacherous world; alas! so naïve.

No, it’s not death, but a murder

A phoenix reborn, you could shudder.

A cool shade for you to rest

With all respect and no more jest.

A spring of love for you to thrive

Together we grow, take a long flight.

A place of trust and compassion, for you to fall apart

Together we are complete, and broken, when kept apart.

I am a woman of strength you can’t barge

I refuse to be dumb, I now take charge.


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