There is Picasso’s Minotaur in my body
He is strangled in chains made of fear
I can hear him growl and thunder
I can feel him shivering with cravings
Of power and lust.
He has long horns that are now bent
With all the thudding and banging
Against high guarded walls
That I made from the pieces
Of my shaken and shattered confidence.
His eyes are raging red
They are wet with blood
From when he almost poked them
With the thorns of my bitterness
When I grew envious of everyone.
His hands bleed with all the tugging
And pulling and struggling
Against the chains, I tied him in
When I had no courage
To be who I was.
I have Picasso’s Minotaur
Tied and twisted inside of me.
Filled with rage and an unceasing desire
Of everything, I won’t let him have
Of everything, I don’t have in me.
His scraped fingers and broken nails
Outrageously burning body
And flaring nostrils tell me
He is about to escape.
And when he does
My eyes would dance with power
My hands would sway in the air
My feet would dance
I will finally be free.