A plain canvas—or paint?
A white peacock, or a rainbow one...

Is it a wonder what I am in nothingness?
I wonder...

Stoning to death—
it’s all you do...

When you violate the innocence of your husband,
falsely accusing him...

Forcing would surely
subdue these ethereal...

Days and they are gone
but his deeds remain, indeed...

I hear the sound of the violin
long before it begins...

Moments,
soaked and swollen...

I am not a racist
if I wish to hold on to my identity...

You can drop bombs on my town,
shoot little boys in the head and kneecaps...

The lashes you saw marked on my body
are but half the story...

On and on, forever—
perfection lost...