Fainting Goat

When my hair begins to grey, I will rejoice.

My crow’s feet will race farther than my aging joints could ever take me.

They will run down my cheek and jaw to meet my laugh lines, 

I will kneel on broken glass as 

my blood stains the pearly sheen so that 

you will see I've resorted to my last option: begging 

before you (as a woman should be) to rip 

I've heard that hope is a Vicious thing 

It claws its way up from the soil of Contempt and Despair 

It brings with it the Memories of a past life and the Longing for a future

Whispers so cruel flood the news,

Filling many hearts with fear. 

Some listen to only what they want to hear. 

Their denial leaves a black and blue bruise. 

Blind the jury. Blind the voters. 

Wrap white fabric over their eyes, stuff white cotton in their ears. Make them as blind and deaf as Justice herself. 

I've never been much of a fighter.

I take hits like glass takes baseballs

like fire takes to rain.

Glass breaks and fire goes out.

I've never been much of a fighter.

A retaliator, resister