He forgot to chisel out Patience and Hope,
That hang as Two bags of Fire as Bosom.
He mistakenly cut out a piece of flesh,
That gave us Low Intolerance.
He let our hair grow as Shy and
Stereotypes grew inside and outside us!
He made this Skin Silky Soft,
So they can Touch and Flondle,
To finally Smear at our fault of being Delicate!
He gave us tears to wipe this body
Of the Shame and Vexation it Feels!
He gifted You and Me Curves
That can let Code and Hon-our Slip Away!
He perfected his art of imperfections
And tested it by letting his folks Play!
Like a game of Chess..
At times a Fantasy
Mostly a War!
Sometimes I feel the game shall cease
If the Coins disappear!
And It makes me wish..
To cut my bosom like my hair!
Once again to prove- He chose Pain
To the Pleasure of Simple Existence
For You and Me...
Infuriated by the system of Life,
Frustrated with the code of living,
Crying Out in Words,