I painted violent visuals today,
but my prayers were misunderstood.
They pointed fingers at me,
seperating me from the mass,
telling their children:
“Look! Her hands have been blessed
to destroy and create.”
I am a grostesque sight today.
My arms were freed from their
blessings,
But they again pointed their fingers at me,
seperating me from the crowd,
telling their loved ones:
“Pity her, give her some coins,
her head has no hand to feed.”
