Post the Seventy-Ninth or No Longer

My anger



A glittering, iridescent mass of burning pain

That coats softer

Parts of my body

Yes it feels good

No you may not touch it

Yes it will maim you

Your ancestors claimed

A “divine” right to my

Ancestor’s land

I claim

A divine right

To be pissed about it


Often have blue glass eyes


But failing to see

True colors

Their mouths filled

With dust

Projecting hated images

Onto bodies that are not theirs

As easily as an artist

Paints canvas

He said “Don’t look behind the curtain”

But I already knew I was being played

In kindergarden

I learned

Play nice


You will get yours

I’ll be damned

If I’m gonna wait

Any longer

About witchymorgan

I'm a 22 year old womanist, sex positive, pansexual, polyamorous, queer, bruja, transwoman. Social justice activist by day, social justice activist by night. Fun! View all posts by witchymorgan

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