Despite her resilience, she knew that they would get her.
She had listened to the freedom within her.
Disassociated from outer male dominion and claim of ownership.
She did what her body told her to do.
To smell his skin, absorb his scent and sense her own desire.
And the men that incarcerated her travelled from women to women.
She understood that she would die young.
The loyalty amongst men was clear to her.
The dedication to punish unruly women.
Moulded from their own flesh.
They surrounded her body like bloodthirsty vultures
Screeching like children that she had to pay the price
For losing and tarnishing, not just her honour, but also theirs.
“Veiled Lady” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)
Croque-Melpomene 