untitled, random poems

untitled 4

In the morning, everyday
I watch them as they sway
She knows how to handle her gowns
And like a mannequin, hide her frowns.

She's a poised pretty princess
Who acts small and smiles
No distate in her voice,
As she speaks to abhorrent men.

The hands that have created her,
Have given shape to misogyny itself,
And as they say She's sharp as a marble
She just accepts it with a graceful smile.

Now, the sun goes down the horizon,
And i watch as the smile turns wicked.
The eloquent bun, now messy
And her pretty bright gown is now missing.

Her hands adorned with gems and jewels,
Are now decorated with daggers and red.
She screams, she thrashes around;
With the rage they've conceived in her,
she now burns the crowd.

The eyes that signified the ocean
Now express the monsters of its depth;
Her hands considered soft and delicate,
I observe how they rip his eyes out.

I think as i observe the setting and conclude to myself,
The poised pretty princess is acting like a maniac
The mirth dancing in her eyes,
As she shakes with glee, while she resembles the devil herself.

And as dawn comes by,
She puts aside her daggers,
And acts in front of the mirror as she acts for the world;
And i watch the witch burn for now,
Not long after when the ashes forge themselves 'again'.