This Poem was Submitted By: Cara-Mae D. Hackett On Date: 2000-08-16 21:59:13 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Dominatrix

The truth is only a mirror on which you paint your own illusions It slides off of you, like a discarded garment silk and lace and satin should burn against your flesh so inhumane and devilishly cruel Life is so carefully crafted as if you think of yourself as the sculptor your masterpiece falls to pieces broken stone or deformed clay clutched in your greedy hands a mythical sword broken never to be re-forged The leather binds the overindulgence showing in your flesh The gloves protect your hands from imagined taint The PVC protects your heels under which you crush people’s souls The fishnet stockings and harsh makeup complete this self-perpetuating delusion Ultimate power of the centuries at your acrylic fingertips you puppeteer those in your life directing them to please you, at all costs to orbit you as if you were the Sun to pay homage to your shiningness when you are truly a black hole You are blind to the truth so strong are your walls of imagery and imagination of control and domination of fear and manipulation you drive away all who search selflessly for the ember of fire in your heart of ice I barely knew you, but you tried to ruin me sometimes I saw that I could have been you had my bitterness consumed me and made my body only worthy of barter the vessel for a dead soul and a twisted mind you sad, lonely, dominatrix

Copyright © August 2000 Cara-Mae D. Hackett

Additional Notes:
shiningness is deliberate. This was inspired by many of the women I have known who have had no respect for themselves or anyone else.


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