Woman.A Story by Thomas Fitzgerald
A subject craferd by many, this is my mere interprtation.
Why must I? Indeed they speak to you of promises that fly in the face of reason. I am not the worker ant of your hive my dear sweet fellow. Time begins tonight and you have an air of honesty that one find’s deplorable to reasoned thinking. Arrogance drives the ship of your mind and yet you kneel to those the same as you, or indeed ones that hide and claim brother hood.
You speak of destiny and fore told attitudes to species not created and you expect me to blindly afford you the right of superior wisdom. You're a fool, not onto intellect but to the survival of races to come. You not only serve a masked master, but lay the foundations of misery for all my kind. Millions, over eons will be tired, murdered and preyed upon because of your sense of unfounded weakness.
If we are to bear the minions to slay this planet are you not to bear fruit for the others, for the war of all mankind are forth coming, that is the only real absolute. He made us from grains of sand and yet you feel your sand more gritted than mine own. That and only that show your arrogance, debauched sulks plague your very existence and I mock you, for you are truly laughable.
From now, and until the end of time, I will never, true are my words, lay beneath you. You, my dearest Adam are no more than a construct for thousands and millions of brutal men to come, and I am your true equal, for I give birth to the woman to fight your stupidity, my weapon is the most deadly of all - knowledge, remember only one thing my sworn enemy, my name, Lilith!
© 2012 Thomas Fitzgerald
Wexford, Leinster, Ireland
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