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Labyrinth — A Child Bride

Bring me your virgin daughter, The eldest of your lot, not except her beauty, She need must glow in the purple sun, Least in the yellow one, That one magics our children’s beauty, Illusionist is our afternoon sun, blinding those who look directly into its eyes, As our girls witchcraft our minds as it glows onto their faces. Bring me your virgin daughter so I can sew her a fruit in her womb, I want her first blood, her first born, and her first flesh, Let me pay her dowry and inject her with my poisonous fuel for her passageway I’ll spread her legs and drag her forth into a maze she will do nothing but try to escape from I will repay her kindness, Because how kind of her to let me forcefully tear down her walls, By sharpening her neck with my manly grip, Why not sell me your daughter for some sickly cattle, she surely cannot be worth any more. She must certainly be a virgin, For I like them pure – Although I am stained and overused. Do not worry, I will only entrap her in a complex coil of my good husbandry duties, I will frustrate my 12 year old bride in this dysfunctional life I want her to lead, The earlier her menstruation cycle begins, the better for my chances of a quick conception. I will be the labyrinth she is forced to endure.

By Ope — Originally published on my blog thisisan0utlet.wordpress.com

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