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