Fighter Girl

Roaring with your chauvinistic narcissism

your endless propitious cause

that you offered upon your cue

of supreme destiny:

burning the anachronistic fantasies

of the domesticated house-wife:

your mother – the marvellous dictator

dictated the mouldy shoes on your mouldy toes.

But you don’t rest.

You earned your attitude, and

your prestige – not a sham! But

a fighter.

Fighters fall, too-

But too long and all remains is the indissolubility of your past

Love your shoes; move

along the caste-

like system and society’s blues.

It’s not for you.

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