Breakable
Collision is imminent between those that needed love and those that required a hand to hold
these entities that had no qualms before, crush their mutual wants into a spiral of chaos
and in this world of marriages and vows, what can anyone hope to achieve by ignoring their
instincts.
Repression explodes out so that shards of ourselves attach themselves into flesh, embedded
so that blood seeps forward and builds on the wound causing a wince of pain that stings
and denigrates their souls all because it was bad to see naughty parts, as if it were injustice
to speak: vagina.
In the hopes of scheming for a worthy cause good people cant help but fuel the fire of their
oppressors, hope for ideals, but sinking fully into a mud that deems people worthy of death
as if they spoke god's words while also denoting that he were one to work in mysterious
ways.
Yet, after all of that talk, and all of those tears the pitiful causes self destruct, and embed those that already housed the glass with more glass, shards of broken people, who deemed that women were lesser than men, when women carried the oven that baked the human species in order that it sustain
into tomorrow.
How then, are we fathoming our own demise, when we are smart enough to spot the pitch
before we purchase a car we no longer require, and we justify our reasoning for beating our sons
as something not primal, but you wanted to, showing dominion, and you can't face it that you wanted
to be God.
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