my knuckles go cold and white
as I numb myself from their screams
but even if they saw me in a different light
I'd still be crucified for loving, it seems
rambling my misdemeanors as a woman
must be quite so easy
when you're a slave to a system
that only serves the patriarchy
drakoyne 彡
YOU ARE READING
Ivy Indigo
Poesiaa short poetic story of an ivy whose roots climbed the wrong walls, and yet found home in another's house of stone.
