roseingenue

[roseingenue]

1…2…3…4. One and four, the curse is set

The curse has begun, the curse has been put, the curse is in action

The curse is molding, decaying, darkening

You don’t know you’ve been cursed long ago? You have been cursed in the womb

You were a cursed seed

You were never meant to be one

I’m a sin

Simply made to be a sin

A sin of my father, a sin of his father, and his, and his, and his father

I’m not one, I’m a sin

What I’ve been told victimized by the male race

Victimized by the atrocities my father committed against women

I’m a product of those sinful atrocities

Sinned by my father, sinned by his father, and his, and his, and his father

“Forced to demise by Eve’s sin” One said

1…2…3…4…5…6…7. One and seven, the ripest I’ll ever be

A sweet for the male race

A flower, a flower look at me

Look at how ripe I am, I’m so ripe

Come, come taste my mesocarp, come smell my petals

Give me my value

I’m sweet, beautiful, young, the ripest I’ll ever be

I fear, I fear, I fear to lose my value

Once I decay I’m gone, irrelevant, undesired

My value is of my shell

My shell, my shell, my outer shell

I’ll never be more than my shell

What is my shell? What am I?

Am I not a product of humanity? No! I’m a shell

I’m a shell meant to be destroyed, meant to be devoured, cursed, used, abused

I’m merely a shell

I am not, not a shell

I am not, not a sin

I will not be demised for my father

I will live

I live

I live for Cleopatra

I live for Anne

I live for them

I live for Marie

I live for Marilyn

I live for Sylvia

I live for Diana

I live for my mother

I will not be a product of the atrocities of men

I am my own, I am sole, I am a soul

I free myself of the curse

I free myself of the sins

I devote myself to women

I was made for women

I was made by women

Made by their souls, made by their strength, their nurture, their emotion

I am made for women

I, I am a woman

Original By: Rose Ingénue

[roseingenue]

Brush my hair, Mommy

Mommy, can you please brush my hair?

With my pink princess brush that won’t remove tears

Leave the windows open so we can feel the warm summer air

You’ll sit on the couch and me on the ground

Mommy, do you know how much to this grief I’m bound?

I’m no longer your baby and I barely got to be

Rather, I’m almost at the age where you had me

I apologize if your hands hurt, mommy

The knots in my heart traveled to my hair and I couldn’t untangle them

Why aren’t you brushing Mommy?

I’ve been sitting here for seventeen years waiting for you to start

Mommy? You’re not mommy. Where did Mommy go?

Mommy please come back I'm scared this monster wants to eat my little heart

Mommy mommy mommy

The monster got me and I’m now its little tart.

Original By: Rose Ingénue

[roseingenue]

The sky today looks a lot like it did when I was younger, this time a few (or should I say many) years ago, I was just going back to school. I would walk through the gates of my elementary school, those brown familiar gates, and head to the school grounds, I’d be greeted by the cold tickling embrace of the wind, the sun is in the perfect spot, illuminating the city without hurting my eyes, shyly peaking at me from behind a big cotton shaped cloud. The sky would make every single Van Gogh and Picasso painting bleed with jealousy and agony, for it’ll never measure up to the sky’s beauty on this winter morning. Perfectly blue like the summer seas making one quench with thirst, with gentle white strokes of a paintbrush creating delicate clouds. Birds are flying more than usual, perhaps it’ll rain. Melodies of children playing echo all around. Today, the world is content.

Original By: Rose Ingénue