today i am madame de stael.
a brave woman in a corset, which squeezes my lungs, but still I talk
heels that slow me down, but make me enthralled to run,
pale skin deems me sickly, but i sweat my youth
my fingers sew words plenty can read after my eventual death
my body strong, I dressed like my ancestors, who can't restrict us.
in no way rope or lace weaved through our garters could.
i still see the 1800's through the t.v. screen
i hate napoleon as much as germaine would hate our dictator
both tyrants, both oppressors, both would hate our guts
but why would i want the oppressors to like me?
next to her side i watch the clouds evacuate
their tears trailing east, towards hope i could only hope will reach us