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to the match-boys, our existence is the darkest form of magic, usually punishable by death.
we shouldn’t be afraid of them. no no no. they should be afraid of us. - the first lesson in fire.
& they just want to end us before we have the chance to end them. - the best kept secret.
- there are some things i just have to do for me.
- we lock those doors & eat those keys.
& make the beasts beg us for our mercy. - predators.
wicked men are rarely punished for very long.
“it’s just like home,” she’ll say. - she didn’t even have to tap her feet together.
compliment all your sisters (no, not just your cis-ters),
sometimes friendship is the motherfucking prize, so be grateful i let you in
do they even want us to exist outside of their late-night fantasies?
your charming smirk will no longer excuse the hurt you inflict.
but if i’m never going to be whole again, then neither are you.)
think your body is made up of mostly water, but really your body is made up of mostly poetry.
write the poem. (write the pain) burn the poem. (burn the pain) - blow the ashes in their eyes.
silence → ilence → iolence → violence
protest → potest → poetst → poett → poetr → poetry
today you are the fire & tomorrow you will be the sea & they’ll have no choice but to hear your siren song. - amanda lovelace
