if beaten,

defeated,
if simply slutted and not sorry,
if submerged and slipping,
a lion may become a little bird.
bones born brutal become fragile, 
puzzles for an easier mind,
teeth and minds made sharp, razor,
are misunderstood
and melted
into a picture petite,
poetic,
perfect for a man’s hands,
his million tiny melodies for the word menstrual.
when beaten, 
bird bones break,
build better piles of being blue,
while the lion inside buys time
sleeps
and plans.
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