feminine rage but make it a poem

[it will catch you eventually]

incredible, the level in which you’ve failed me / yourself to have squandered me / it must be so depressing / in your miniature world, carefully / carved of glass and delusion / and each day you toil / beneath your false mask of compassion, i know / you paint the word disposable across my back / with money hungry eyes when i turn around / so cowardly, the way you ask for blood / and give crumbs in return / demand i lick them from your palm as you lie through blunt teeth / fascinating, to be so shortsighted you’re rendered legally blind / it will catch you eventually, you know / the thing you run from / it will

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