The Woman Who Sold Her Soul

The Woman Who Sold Her Soul

Here is a story of a woman, maladjusted

Her lifestyle deemed qualities

For which she felt no just was

Given to her in her flowery form

Of daisies and lilies and

Keeping meals warm.

Unable to cope, succumb, or exist

In a world where her feminine whiles persist

In pursuit of a king guised as pauper or peasant 

In pursuit of the duty to make ones live pleasant

She summoned the powers, darkly cloaked

Deep inside. She wished for the devil

To possess her mind’s eye

And conjure the wicked, the powers that be

Sell her soul for the privilege to stand up and pee.

It’s more than a method

It’s more than that—no

The privilege to pen ones name in the snow

Without using ink, and without using hands

A pleasure from which adorned ladies

Are banned.

There once was a woman struck down by woe

Amidst a long journey—she just had to go

She had been here before, but the pain

Not as tragic. She scowled, closed her eyes

And summoned the magic.

Of a thousand years banished

And a thousand times scorned

She drew darkness from a place

She had been forewarned

Would harden with darkness the world she did see

Forever for the privilege to stand up and pee

It’s more than a method

It’s more than a dream.

The ability to produce a near perfect stream

Without bending the knees, without wrinkling clothes

Not allowed of those who

Take the shape of a rose.

A pleasure from which gents inherit their stance

A hassle for those at the end of their glance

Across a crowded room

There were locked eyes.

Between the two, a spark, it flies

And in an instant, he blinked

No longer he could see

His beauty. Because she had stepped out to pee

It’s more than a method

It’s more than that—no

The privilege to pen ones name in the snow

Without using ink, and without using hands

A pleasure from which adorned ladies

Are banned.

It’s not much to grant,

And we’re offering our souls

We’re exchanging in blood

Our time growing old

It’s not much to ask

Just a simple decree

Grant us the privilege

To stand up and pee.

Ireland / Fall 2013