Freedom in Chains

The movement of her waist

Swaying of her hips

Is not for your consumption

But for her own personal pleasure

Her own celebration.


Which will lead to her destruction

As the mentality of the mob

vies for a blood jurisdiction


A whore, a philanderer, a Jezebel of the highest degree

A conjurer of base lusts and desires

Causing others to realise what they’d rather hide


A social reject and open spectacle

She will soon be weary of those stone throws

She will soon be weary of the laughter and blurred energy

That surrounds her.


No home. No food. No growth.

Just opiates and products of inebriation

A source of freedom, of comfort, of safety

In a world that celebrates your rejection


In drunkenness she wanders tot he brothels for safety.


Shaped like a relative, a lover, a government social scheme


Her body no longer her own

A focal menagerie.


Alternative Facts.


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