We tried to
make it work with them, when it became apparent that the world was changing and
taking up arms to fight them hadn't worked to vanquish the expanding threat of
subsumation.
We could
not stand being around the docile females they had already turned into pretty
helpless lambs, but we thought perhaps as true partners it could be ok.
Partners in
violence.
Warrior Women.
An abomination
is what history paints us as, though we just met men in their propensity for
violence.
For taking
rather than ever being taken.
But
compared to the soft women, we seemed hard, unnatural.
We, who
were the last vestige of what was natural -- a state of balance -- builder and
embracer.
True
civilization.
Instead,
the uncivilized red energy of males ran rampant, spreading blood stains across
the land as they left a trail of death and betrayal in their ever widening
wake.
Followed
everywhere possible by their lamb wo-men who sacrificed everything to have and
support her man.
Thanking
her lucky stars that at least she had one.
Had the privilege
of feeding him and cleaning up after him and providing him with little mini
male heirs and little mini further lambs to support the new world order he was
creating, and to serve as nice tight sets of new holes to plunder in an ever
expanding attachment to the hidden forbidden lusts of taking, possessing what
should never be sullied or sundered.
But
sundering was sex, is sex. Became synonymous with The Act.
Synoecious.
And the
more one could remain respectable on the outside, yet be a freak in the sheets
behind closed doors, the hotter the thrill. The hotter the energy created, and
siphoned off.
The higher
the stakes.
Is this the
world you want?
If not, change what you desire and what you allow.
