Amazons

      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.