They cannot name me. Monster, goddess, whore—
the words slide off like water off the stone
I make of men who want what all men want:
first power. When that fails, they beg for more
respect. And when respect won't come, they claw
for freedom—just to move, to choose, to stand.
Deny them even that, and watch them fall
to slavery. But slaves to whose command?
Not mine. I never held the chain. The fear
they carry walked in with them at the door.
The dread of loss. Of being less. Of here
becoming nowhere. That's the war.
I do not blink. My gaze is not the crime.
They turned to stone long before they met mine.