Underground is where they'll find us,
Diminishing ourselves, trying to become smaller,
Like dust,
Or a grain or rice,
And how nice, would it be?
To take a deep breath, disappear,
Just leave.
Is it our power that scares us, I wonder?
Is it the size of our thighs, the cackle of our laugh, the trauma,
Marked out on our skin like battle scars, or wounds.
Or marks.
I wonder.
For the women too scared to be seen.
For the women too scared to eat.
For the women covered in bruises.
For the women who had nothing to begin with.
For the women who lost it all.
Stuck between shining too bright and burning their eyes.
To holding back your scream, as your orgasm and release,
You're just too scared to be seen.
But you're ethereal and bold, did you know?
That you embody a creation, of perfection, of courage and I don't know,
What it will take for you to step outside and step in.
You're
A
Dream, I guess.
Awakening, fleeting, and easily forgotten,
Did you forget?
I forgot.
I hope we wake up out of our slumber and remember.
What its like to cry, without being shy.
What its like to express without you suppressing,
What its like to walk, in a room and know you have risen.
And you are the rose,
With thorns - maybe.
What it's like to have masculine energy at your feet,
And now I hope you forget,
That you're too scared to be seen.
Photography by
JKG | jkgphotography.co.uk
Location: Balham, London
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