They sculpt me with dirty hands
and censure me for being tainted.
My dreams are aesthetical
and too colossal to not smother
subjected to their hypocrisy
and egoistic allegations.
They worship my naked curves,
satisfy their precarious manhood,
trace my skin as if it were theirs to trace
with consent or without, does it matter ?
and after they’re dirty work is done
they adorn me with clothing
and make a stone out of me,
throw gold and silver on my corrupted body
place me in the corner of a dark room
call me goddess, putting me on a fraudulent pedestal.
But when I become a deity unto myself
my shimmer blinds their ravenous eyes
and they can’t handle the glory I earn,
I’m convicted for non alignment
to their rigid code of conduct,
I squander my time, if I live up to my dreams.
but do I really have to explain
that I’m in love with unsteadiness
and that I love to dance in the rain
of tomorrow’s proud ‘mistakes’
They reprimand my doings,
make me make my locks grow,
so that they can pull me back by them
and teach me how to be docile and gentle,
but I have a sharp edged heart
and I cut this black cascade
reclaiming the freedom
that threatens their pride,
they hold so sacred.
They give me a love of iron
that embellishes my ankles
with shackles and fetters
and they claim me
like an object that pleases
their inflated ego.
But blinded in their own malice
drowning their own vices,
that traps them underneath
they never could see the sky
They never comprehend
that all that they were trying to confine
was just not tangible to begin with.
I am just the wind
and I hold no weight
of their injustice over me
therefore I will soar
One day, I will look into my reflection,
into these exhausted eyes
and I decide once and for all
that I belong where I belong
and it’s not for me to incline
under the weight of your pride
but in the sky, where home lies.
I will return, once I find myself
and if I can be the whiff
I’ll remind them
that I can be the storm too.