her walk tells a hymn,
her f☠︎︎☠︎︎tsteps s☠︎︎und a cadence f☠︎︎r lifting c☠︎︎rses
how prude to believe that you
can curse my name into water
when water and i are immensely close.
my tears drown my enemies.
how prude to believe that you
can write misfortune into my
name on paper when that paper
was carved from the trees
how prude to believe that you
can use fire to burn my timeline
into bane when i walk through
how prude to believe that you
can curse the winds into misguiding
my internal compass when my
ancestors used it as an instrument?
how prude to believe that the
would help you guide a curse
to my name when it suffocates
and silences the breath of all
who desired for me to vow and
bow at the misfortune that
their shortcomings attempted
how prude to believe that the
water would help you rob my
lands of fortune when the water
still carries the memory of all
of my ancestors voices and
how prude to believe that you
can convince fire to speak
of my name with vain when
it burns all of those that
have ill intentions towards
how prude to believe that
you can turn the herbs against
my essence when my footsteps
scare up all curses that quietly
prophesied destruction over
— 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗹𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘱𝘢𝘬𝘶, uǝɹplıɥɔ ʍopɐɥs ǝɥʇ ɟo ɹǝɥʇoɯ)