A thought angelic

I have always been angelic and beautiful, happy and sovereign

My form a delight and my soul visiting from snow-falling heaven

Hence – the reaction:

Fir Bolg, mass of envious eyes pinned in fat, misshapen

Tapeworm, laughing mouths, steal happiness for corruption

Between I and they, begs the question:

Why do they care who I’m fuckin?

They twist in boring death throes of creative impotence

Between I and they I’d turn narcissis in a second

I am alive, I would give my life to one only, that’s how it’s happened

Whose business or right that that’s my sovereign choice as a woman?

It’s because I’m angelic as happiness herself, my happiness my beauteous form

I see angelic form in fish, and sky, land and green

But still, not the Fir Bolg, not with a ten foot pole, I wouldn’t fuck them!