i find that in my silence, men like to paint over me
they color my grey indifference, silver sparks of submission,
drowning out my dark disposition with their brilliant longings
and the forcefulness, the ferocity of which they impose these superstitious imaginings is violently eerie
all the blood of my bleak femininity has been peeled away clean,
replaced with shy smiles, pigtails, and a disturbing perceived perverse sexuality
then throughly drowned out in parades of pretty princess pinks
🥀
