She twists and she twirls
With so much pride
So much arrogance
A simple kind of loathing
for those who can’t.
She mocks them.
Curses them.
Shuns them for tearing apart
the piece of art she has crafted
with such care, such tenderness.
She rages on.
Shames them for violating
what was meant to be a thing of beauty
Her beauty
She was to be the phoenix rising from the ashes
They the ashes.
She weeps and she wails
It was to be pristine-
and now it is tarnished
Slathered in tar
Oozing with filth
But it is amusing, you see
For her art was never art
Her beauty was hideous
Her warmth was ice
It was she who was repulsive
Not a goddess, but a gorgon.
Artwork By: Amna Suheyl
