the narrative Øf a wØman

i have never been given
a voice
to speak out the
profane  the
insane
∴∴∴

covered my mouth
with wounded palms
i stumble, standing
up
legs don´t carry

waters ripple in a heart
as they throw stones 
in my mind

glitching
i hold up
eyes open
brushing the dust
off the thrones
where they sat on the right
in the hands the magdalenes
saint whores 
glitching
i hold up
eyes open

∴∴∴
i have never been given
a voice
to speak out the
sacred the
insane