man has been the most superb animal , with dominion over others . Since trousers always remain longer than skirts , man is born to rule .
Where are the Gods ? ( The Widow )
Your will , is it for me to suffer , O ye , the gods of fate ? Affixed with the seal of solitude , the mark of divine has left my forehead , and anyone who sees me despises me . Dragged like a criminal , pushed away like a nauseating mob , and dashed to the torrid ground , I ’ m maimed to despair .
To and fro , piercing to my interior globe , I was raped by those who cast me out of society , spoiled by the vicious spoilers , violated by the custom practitioners , abused by the traditional custodians , my delicate valves assaulted over uncountable , frightening nights .
Where are the gods Who hunt me daily for atrocities ?