‘Do you know what you are?
You are this.
You are that.
You are there.
You are here.
A rabbit.
A hat.
You are small.
You are weak.
You don’t know what you need.
You are nice.
You are neat.
Oh no, look how you bleed.
You are quiet.
You are sweet.
You are shy, oh so shy.
You are modest.
You are broken.
Take my advice to live by.
You don’t want it?
Who are you?
How could you hurt me?
You are selfish.
You’ve changed.
You look sad.
You aren’t free.
You don’t know who you are
Who you are
Without me.’
Lucky you,
You’re so special,
So chosen,
So important,.
.
.
But I will never find out why.
Not until I die.
.
.
Lucky you,
You are so tertiary that you do not need to worry,
you will accept what you are given in the end and
it will make you happy.
Lucky you.
.
.
Lucky you,
If your husband wants a prettier, younger, wife,
You get a prettier, younger, friend to be forever pregnant with.
Or maybe hundreds.
Lucky you.
.
.
Lucky you,
If you don’t want to watch him flirt, play, and be in love with other women,
You can choose
between a lonely Hell, or a lonelier Heaven.
Lucky you.
.
.
.
The dam that kept me under control broke
The water spilled through and look what happened
The destruction of what I was told was meant to be
Became
grass,
flowers,
trees.
Don’t tell me that the dam was for my own good
You may like the desert but
I like the woods.
.
Let the daisies softly carpet what once was rough and barren
Let the trees offer their cool shade
Let the water flow into each living thing like a second breath
.
If you want to save my soul
Give it life
not
death.
The Culture of Being 