He will march upon you
pompous and smug
like a tiny dictator into the motherland.
He will slash and burn
everything in his path,
but he does not remember
that you are more.
A woman is not fresh fruit,
dropped once, bruised and spoiled.
She is resilient,
she is nature.
She shall grow from his ashes
and send him running.
—  Michelle K., You Cannot Conquer a Woman.