Cassandra only ever wished to be heard
It trickles down your chest,
Through your stomach, to your gut.
Liquid heat in the edge of a blade
Made from the words of others.
It tears you apart.
Your tale rests in saying the truths
No one wants to hear,
In making a witch of yourself
Out of their skepticism;
So they let Troy fall.
This could be Apollo’s curse,
His sunflower smiles a mere screen,
Behind which hides poisonous intent.
No one to believe that you
Would be able to refuse him.
Or humanity by itself corrupted,
Staining their nature with judgments
To dress femininity in dishonesty.
They would lose a city to the flames,
If it meant ridding the world of you.
Men have a history of burning
Women with knowledge.
By Larissa Mota
Larissa Mota is a Brazilian writer with an interest in international affairs, feminism and foreign languages. She hopes knowledge and good faith will one day overcome prejudice. She can be reached at her personal blog:http://hestialied.tumblr.com/.