How would I describe myself?
A person, that’s obvious, but what kind?
A woman, an atheist, a lover, a feminist?
Those are just labels, and labels are no fun.
I’m much more than labels, much more than a person.
I’m a wall screaming ‘post no bills’
Covered with stickers and the occasional drops of piss.
I’m a rope strung on two poles,
Carelessly bent under the weight of white cloth.
I’m the pretty little pink kettle,
Placed high out of reach, all flash no utility.
I’m the servant in a castle,
Fending off attackers with my iron spoon.
I’m both the spider and fly in this web of lies.
A mirage that changes with every mirror.
I’m the victim, the survivor, the oppressor,
Good and evil jumbled in a ball of yarn.
But imagine I met another ball of yarn tomorrow,
As convoluted an imagery as my own.
Do we both become spiders or flies?
Do we finally break free from all the lies?