A woman of misery and hate,
doth compare to a woman of joy and love.
For her kind is cold and heartless.
While the other is warm and bright.
Do you see a similarity?
I do.
I see the woman of hate as she cries for her babe.
I see the woman of happiness laugh wickedly for the same.
Do you hear what I hear?
Do you listen to the cries of the desperate woman?
Do you listen as a baby is whisked into the cold bright light.
Do you hear its cries as it realizes the cruelty of the world,
the harshness of the day?
I see these things with a slow eye,
for I must right the wrongs of the world.
I bring a babe for every death.
And for every wrong a right.
I don't solve your problems for you,
but I help you help yourself.
I am Diana.
Protector of the girl,
of the young and helpless.
I see you who is good,
helping in my work,
cradling the crying child.
I see you who is not,
causing the tears to roll and the furious hellfires to uproar.
2007-11-06
04:07:13
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3 answers
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asked by
~Smurfette~
2
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry
You cannot possibly understand,
the wrath I bring upon those who mistreat the girl, the babe, the mother.
Careful of your slew of hateful words,
you cannot wish to be a righted wrong.
2007-11-06
04:07:30 ·
update #1