We made skirts of armour apparently
Hid our strength beneath them,
Ripped those skirts and wove them to skorts of our intersections.
Our bare legs maps to your intentions
We bathed in our B.O.
Nature’s fuckboy repellent.
Weakness was stomping out my magic because you were afraid.
More than lost words reverberating from the street preachers mic, we kept our emotions in jars they couldn’t fit it.
We are logic, we are love, we are twisted panties smiling discharge.
Pheromones, iron made did stood to make the spines of history books feeble with our stories.
But we’re bigger than Eve’s genes.