Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

How do we compare?
You have the story written in his name,
I have the blame,
I hold the suffering of his story,
It will keep repeating, history
Forever eternal
Stuck in the infernal.

That's how we are.

How can you compare the agony of men,
To the pain of women?

We are different
We are defined by his story,
Painted by a history,
That does not belong,
Not to us,
To him,
To every man out there,
He controls it,
He wants power.

Why must we be blamed for the apple?
Why must he shackle?
Adam has been martyred.
His ideas have been carved.
A man can die,
His ideas will not.
But ours?
What about us?
What about our fate?
Why must we be dictated and controlled?
By those who know not,
The suffering of new life,
He wants us to stand,
Line up providing and guarding life,
Like a white picket fence.

I refuse.
I am meant to nurture.
But I will not.
I am not naive, I am not kind.
I am aware, I am cruel,
I am a liar, scum,
A whore they call me!
Who would want me?
I'll taint the world with my anger.
A woman's anger is not quiet,
It's ugly,
It's raw,
Pristinely filthy,
And rotten and murky,
And I will make the world shape into this.
And I will bend the world into my shape.
The world will die but my ideas,
My ideas will stay
You can kill me,
You can erase me.
But so many will carry my ideas.
And they will chant my name.

Chapter Text

I can't do it.

You shoot bullets with your eyes
Shackle me with glares.
I'm the target,
Yet why am I meant to feel like the recipient?
Your stares are not a gift,
Your words are not harmony.

I'm shamed for wanting to leave,
To beg for an exit,
Is it shameful?
I've done nothing.
I was given an option to leave.
Why must I stay?
She said I could leave,
Why must I stay,
Performing an act no one will gaze upon?

My imperfections will shape me,
They shall carve me,
From stone and sleet.
Your perfections shall not.
They can engrave themselves into you,
What you are not.
When every word of praise,
Every smile,
They will be mixed with blood, tears and hunger.

However I know not.
One with no creator to be guided,
Cannot judge the created.

Chapter Text

The sins of a child

Do you know what it's like to desire,
To lust and long for something,
That shall stay,
Forever out of reach.
Never to be claimed.
To be free.
Free from my grasp.
Free from everyone's grasp.
To be held only by you.
You were my world.
For my praise and devotion.
You gave me a globe.
Mapping your body.
Showing me your ailments.
Your weakness.
You never had a final dance.
For your legs have been burnt to ash.

I hold the sins of the mass,
Praying.
Praying for you.
Screaming.
Screaming your name.
Your never coming back.
I cannot atone.
For I am pure.
For I am young.
Unchanged by the world.

I preach.
I preach my sins.
They are unchanged.
Unknown by anyone here.
I am naive.
I am childlike.
I have had these burdens,
For seven years.
Unknowing when they would,
Claim you,
Claim me,
Claim him.
Claim everyone.
I hold the sins of a life I have not lived.

Are they really my sins?
I was dealt a sinfull hand.
A hand that is not mine.
But yet I'm holding it.
Why am I holding someone else's sins?
Why are my hands bloody?
Is it my blood?
Is it yours?

I hold the sins of all before me.
I am Eve.
I am Adam.
I am the serpent.
Bending everyone to my will.
To gain my desires.
I gained money.
Praise.
Attention.
But all that shatters next to your empty bed.
A smile I will never see again.
A voice that shall never utter a word.
Eyes that shall never see.
Did I fail?
Did I fail to keep you alive?
Did I fail to remain pure?
No.
How could I fail when I didn't know.
I didn't know I was playing a game.

You are my world.
And shall stay.
Forever more.

Chapter Text

I'm imperfect,
Flawed.
A statue,
Made from ice.
One touch,
All it takes.
That's all it takes,
To break me.
Melt me down,
To nothing.
To what I was,
Before.
And what I will be,
Forevermore.
A nihilistic dream,
An harmonic fail.
I thank you,
How do I thank you?
Can I reach out and grab you?
Like I can with so many others?
You were someone I loved.
Yet had never known.
You were careful,
Yet I still,
Cracked.
Why?
You left.
You stopped,
Stopped carving me,
Stopped forming me,
Into what I was meant to be.
So why do I feel your detestation?
Why do I feel the pain.
Pain of being abandoned by your creator.
Why am I left wondering what it would be like,
To be held by you,
To feel your delicate hands tying my laces,
Your proud smile when I show you achievement.
I'm not real,
Not sentient,
Yet why am I sentimental?
A statue,
An unchanging monument,
An artistic eternity.
A replica of human beauty,
In clay,
In marble,
In ice,
I could be in anything,
As long as it made you proud.
Statues shouldn't feel such things.
Am I not a statue?
Have I failed?
Have I failed you?
The one I hold most dear?
I cannot move.
I cannot escape my fate.
I shall remain trapped.

Yet you are the one carved in clay and paint.

Chapter Text

We are two souls,
Forever intertwined
Yet we will never meet again.

We stay,
Separated.

We are chained by fate,
Yet reeled in by destiny.
Our souls were binded together,
But our body's are forced apart.

We play the same play,
We dance the same dance,
We act the same act.

There is a routine,
Monday, we act,
Tuesday, we dance,
Wednesday, we perform,
Thursday, we sing,
Thursday, we
Thursday, we don't
Thursday, why aren't you here?
Thursday, why is not Friday?
Thursday, why is it repeating?
Thursday, why am I alone?
Thursday?

Friday, you are gone.
Where are you?

Chapter Text

One step
Your not leaving.
Why would you leave me?
Your so pathetic.
Come to senses.
How was your day at work?

Two steps
How dare you?
You think you can leave me.
You'll be,
Begging,
Screaming,
Pleading for me.
You are still not hesitating,
Why not?
Look back at me coward!

Three steps
I know im a liar.
I told you I loved you,
I do not.
And I'm sorry,
I will love you this time,
I promise so come,
Sit down and enjoy this night with me.

Four steps
I suppose that's all I have ever been.
I've gotten lost in the pattern,
Nausea and nerves overwhelm me,
I don't want to do this without you.
I can't do this without you.
I'm scared what I'll do without you.
Don't leave me.

Five steps
...
Your gone.
And you won't come back will you?
I don't blame you.
I'm sorry.

Chapter Text

Jack of all trades,
I can do anything,
I do not belong to anything!
I am free.
I build my own path!

Jack of all trades,
There is nothing I have not done,
I am not attached to anything.
I am a leaf in the wind,
Going where I please.

Jack of all trades,
Master of none,
I find no enjoyment in my tasks,
I belong to no one.
I am alone,
Can someone find me?

Chapter Text

Picture Perfect

Force me into an idol.
Make me your god.
Paint a million pictures in my image,
Knowing that each stroke,
Will never amount to my glory,
You will never capture my rage,
My anger of being a mere,
portrate of a man's success.

You can try to,
Objectify me,
Make me into a goal,
An objective.
Picture perfect.
Forever inhumane.

I do wish to be human.
I wish to be the person I was.
The being I am now is no woman.
I am but a man's idea.
Being an idea,
A lifestyle,
An ideology,
Something to be dedicated to,
Is something I've been forced into.

If anyone tries again I rip them apart.
I will not go quietly.
I will kick and scream and cry and beg.
You will not take me.
Not again.
Shut up and listen,
Listen to my fury.

I have dealt with your bullshit.
I have dealt with your rage.
Your imperfections.
Yes, yours.
They are not mine.
I have suffered in silence.
For my mouth cannot move, not anymore,
Raw from the glass you shove down my throat.
Bloody, from the words you put in them,
I will spit them all out.
Force them out.
If does not matter that I can no longer bite.
Rip out all my teeth again.
You will never win.

My picture perfect is not being your picture perfect.

Chapter Text

Being a woman is being born with an undescribable rage. I would claw, scratch and bite if people touched what wasn't theirs. And it would be bloody. Raw. Messy. Filthy. Dehumanising. But it would be mine. If something is mine i will give my life to protect it. If you are not, then it is not yours.

I don't think my anger is my own sometimes.
It feels alien yet comforting?
Like it's agonisingly slow while it corrupts me with madness, all the while it fills me with a warmth so lovely it's like heaven.

Sometimes I wonder who's it is. An ancestor? The ground from where I came from? The ashes to where I will return to? The mother who we all share? Left to bleed out while looked down upon by men? I think it's from her. How does one who has not seen a lie, Protect themselves from one. Those who have not bled do not fear the scars. Those who have not dreamt do not fear the wake.

Chapter Text

Saturday 20th July

I kiss my friend at break time
I was 5.
I don't really remember,
My friend let's me know later on,
When I'm in year six.
If I don't remember it probably doesn't matter.
But when I get told,
I feel almost sick?
Not that I wanted to throw up,
Or a fever or ill
But almost melancholy?
Like I didn't want to kiss anyone again.

I assumed it was because he was a boy.
I said I was a lesbian from then on.

I ask my friend out.
I'm still in year six.
I wanted to be together,
But I know,
Deep down what I feel isn't love.
But I want it to be.
I want it so bad
So bad.
I was desperate.

We break up.
She doesn't like girls.
I convince myself I like girls and boys.

My other friend and I think we like eachother.
But at different times.
It's still year six.
We talk that night.
Over text. We sort it out.
In the morning I ask if we can talk about it more.
I don't really care. I just want to play games.

I start dating more people,
Year seven.
Funnily all female.
Maybe I was a lesbian.
Non of them worked out.
Didn't care for the first one.
Too pushy, tried to make her kiss me and such,
With the second.
With the third I was too absent.
There were more but they were all online.
And you dont feel love online.
Right?

I didn't feel love in person anyway.
Ever time I think about that it hurt.
I started stealing my dad's razors.

I convince myself I like my friend.
It's year 8.
I don't tell her.
I don't really know her.
I know she's aroace.
Shes pretty.
To other people at least.

I've always found people ugly.
I assume I've just got high standards.
I don't think I deserve high standards.

I date my friend in year 9.
He's a guy.
Great I'm bisexual.
Neither of us even know eachother.
We barely talk.
He leaves my messages on delivered all the time.
We don't talk to eachother.
Ever.
We break up.
He says it his mother.
He's not allowed to date.

We both know that its not true.

I try again in year 10.
The same guy.
I convinced myself I love him.
I don't.
He doesn't like me.
I don't care.
We stay friends,
We are really close.
I love him, I love most of the people I've dated.
Just not how I'm meant to.

I start to love myself again.
I understand now
I'm not meant to love with rose petals,
But with, Hydrangeas,
Alstroemerias,
Chrysanthemums,
Tulips,
Freesias,
Irises,
Sunflowers,
Gerberas,
Hyacinths,
And roses, but only the lovely yellow ones.