Un- Woman

What is woman to you? A womb with legs to bare your children? Perhaps, a second mother to nurture you? Sick, vile man. You have corrupted me so much. I wish to be free of anything womanly to you. I shall remove the breasts which tender to child And remove the greatest sin to exist: my womanhood. I shall tear from me, my womb which makes me mother. For I have no intent on giving myself to you. I shall burn my face with acid and gouge out the eyes you call pretty. What else remains, but the deformed remains of woman? What else must I remove to stop being woman? These smooth locks of hair, sit too idly on my head, Perhaps removing them will make me un-woman. Ill remove all curves and bumps known to make me female. For I don’t wish to be touched by you. I don’t wish to be complimented under the pretense of lust. I would rather burn in the pits of hell, for you disgust me more. Even Satan’s vile tongue seems sweeter, And god’s love seems gone.