Perspective, the subconscious subjective mental representation of a subject, person, place or thing…. Prejudice, impulsively judging a situation based on immediate thoughtless perspective… prejudice perspective, evaluating one based on what your eye grasps with no rational reasoning involved, a linear, biased sight… creating a persona based on my clothes, my immediate actions , my spur of the moment spoken words… you think you know me…. But really, do you have any mutha… fucking…idea?
My smile fools you… swindles your wit with its candy syrup sweetness… "Why?" you marvel… why is that bitch always so happy? This cheerful bitch HAS to be weak… or psychotic. Yet, it is my smile, that sultry expression that one prematurely perceives as happiness, that small emotional element that is my fatal "secret weapon" one always speaks of but never reveals. That smirk, nothing more than a façade for the deadly venom that seeps through my pores and shines through my Oooohhh Baby MAC lipglass. My lips do not allow any hint of pain or weakness to seep through… it is our animalistic nature to prey on the weak. Only the strong survive in this dog eat dog arena… therefore, I am perpetually armed with my smile…Let it fool you… you fucking fool.
My uncultivated and wild actions are whispered about… I party too hard; I drink too much; my mind is constantly clouded with desolate thoughts and the smoke of greatness… What a dumb slut. You know me so well, my priorities are fucked up you say… I am a sorry ass parent, a horrible worker, a fuck up of a daughter… you are not my creator, yet obviously my principal judger… Never mind the fact that my child-like habits, my sense of irresponsibility, my disturbing unruliness may have stemmed from forced entry into adulthood, you don't care that at 7 years of age, instead of playing with Barbie and practicing ballerina steps, I was raising 2 other siblings and nursing my battered mothers wounds, at 10 it became 4 siblings and more wounds from an even more abusive monster. It doesn't matter to you that I have watched my brothers and sisters being locked up, addicted to the streets, die to the streets… siblings that I have nurtured as if they were borne of my own womb have been taken away from me before I was old enough to purchase the poison I now consume on a daily to stifle the pain… how could you know this… maybe you don't care…
You fuck faces watch my every move, stare in disgust as I refuse to be bound by any type of unpromising relationship, watch as I date different men on different days, never the same, always different… yet your thought process remains the same, your dense little intellect always develops the same conclusion… you whore, you fucking promiscuous slore!..Your little pea brain is inept to question my actions, to wonder why I am incapable of stability or commitment, to miniscule to even consider the possibility that my heart is not black, yet extremely delicate…. You don't stop to speculate at what man miffed my heart, abandoned my emotions and seized my will to commit… are you so simpleminded that you do not comprehend that I am the victim of a broken heart, a wounded soul set to permanent defense mode, forever moving at the speed of light to avoid the heart wrenching pain that once almost diminished me to oblivion …
You look at my ripe breast sitting high, overpowering a small, thin piece of cloth that couldn't possibly tame the wildness hidden deep in my bosom, you stare at this flesh and your mind deciphers that I am nothing more than a "floozy", you reduce me to a banging ass body with the mental capacity of a flea…. Your cognition is not keen enough to fathom that such a tactless display of beauty could possibly conceal the intellect of Albert Einstein, the wisdom of Socrates and the creativity of Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni. Does it make you feel superior… this foolish bigotry, this ignorant chauvinism…. does it titillate your small dick and dry pussy to paint me as a vagabond, a miscreant, rubbish amongst men… is that your sick little fetish? Wait, Don't answer that, because frankly my dear I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FOREIGN FUCK… you have not walked a centimeter in the four inch stilettos that I wear oh so well… you will never understand why… never comprehend my greatness… will never know the pleasure of being able to appreciate the awesomeness that is ME… flaws and all.
~Viola Monroe
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