She wore her shame like an embroidered gown,
And upon her golden head, her guilt ridden crown,
Mantled in embarrassment & garbed in her
fear,
From her cloaked temerity, she would shyly peer,
She, enveloped in accusations of being so wrong,
In all that she did & was, within her silent
sad song,
Within her religion, her sex, her colour &
her shape,
Within her very existence, by society, sorely
raped,
Until the day arrived, when scales fell from
her eyes,
When she found her own truth & she finally
realized,
She then dropped her mantle, together with shame,
Standing naked, free, & ready to start all
over again.
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