Scrutinize my eye’s,
look upon my body,
like it’s some kind of prize…
which elicits such elation,
Is the straw I draw…
from your last sensation.
I am not the body,
to which you may rob me…
of my self respect,
because this temple I’ve kept,
is the closest you’ll ever be to the Godly.
Mine is the body that mimics the earth,
yours is the body in which the seed is dispersed,
I am life – not to be seen as some kind of curse,
this stigma of your aggression must now be reversed.