Why am I a woman?

She asked as tears roll down her crimson cheeks, flushed with hues of vanquish and immense pain.

Is it just because a man needs a mate or is it because I am the key to heaven’s gate?

Why is it that nobody wants me for who i am but they covet and desire my body?

Why is it that a man abominates the very own blood from which life burgeons?

What shall I do to efface a man’s repugnance for my blood?

What shall I do to be worthy of love?

She deeply yearns for someone to say that she’s enough.

The Athena in her trembles with mad ire as she keeps accepting her trounces incessantly, coercing her to exhibit the sheer power she possesses.

It is this aureate womb ornamented with life that makes thee a woman, says she, her words laced with pure wrath.

The divine femininity within her holds the power to give shape to life,

The world seems to forget how she can cause chaos and strife.

She is the force that should be dreaded and not messed with.

She is indeed a goddess that should be feared and worshipped.