I want to be made of satin and steel, to have a soft sheen of beauty covering the unyielding strength underneath. I want eyes lit by the fire in my soul, and flesh warmed by the molten metal coursing through my veins. Is it possible to be both the maiden and the knight? To have the face to inspire the hero and the arm to fight by his side? How does one reconcile sensuality and strength? Must we choose between beauty and bravery? Does femininity preclude heroics? I don't want to have to choose. I want to be a muse and a warrior, to have the ability to instill both desire and fear. I want to be the powers of nature incarnate, to have the glow of the sun in my skin and the force of the ocean in my muscles, to posses the gentle touch of the wind and the solid bearing of the earth. Fuck fairy tales with their damsels in distress. I will be a damsel in control.
I know it's been for-fucking-ever so, in case you forgot, this ^ image means this is a poem.
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