The Passion,
For existence,
For the colours that make up my boneS,
My loud screaming hair, my nails, my fierce shapely legs,
and Oh how I Dance, how I throw myself into movement,
My body launching from position to action,
Kicks, screams, and I weep
I am a Princess,
With the eyes of lakes,
Residing in them dragons and phoenixes; rising from the ash that lays at the bottom,
The collar bones I wear, dressed in yellow and mustard seeds,
with my long Pakistani nose,
How it’s shaped like birds, flying,
The femininity presented in my grinning, my innocence, my gums,
My flirtation with mother earth herself
My masculinity enveloped in rope across my skin,
My home found in the safety of Men,
Their voices and chests never harmed Me,
Their respect weighs heavy,
The golden honeydew that is my radiance,
The epitome of being a Sun,
The shape of my breasts, jealousy,
Heavenly,
I am silk, made from the toughest burns,
The richest and sweetest of milks, fermented from the sourest of sources,
Rancid, infertile, sick minded, tongue polluted, abusive in every curve of the letters that make it,
I come from hunger pains,
A whirlpool of hell,
Extraordinarily like a burning Star,
The Sun and the Moon my beloveds,
I pray to the trees that kept watch over me,
In the dungeons, that ripped me apart,
In ways I didn’t even know,
I have feet that are pretty like butterflies,
Fluttering from heel to ball,
Or maybe I am an elf,
Some say as sweet as mangoes is my mouth,
My lips like maple syrup, addictive,
I am, and will always be Gangster,
Wrapped in the tapestry of a Monarchy,
With the nature of being Daring,
Frightening those whilst I Fight,
In the face of Death,
and Laughing