Boudiccea

It's the impossibility of womanhood that vexes me
 The child bride symbol
 The ability to read eyes and minds
 Curves more fluid than desert waves
 The tiny bones of the wrist
 The organic movement to paint the lips
 But the heart
 A woman's heart
 A woman's heart
 Much older than the hollowed trees
 I am the queen who fell upon her sword
 My servants and descendants each in their turn, a glorious wave
 But anger is such energy, more beautiful if controlled
 A slow simmer, the sharpening of teeth
 But the heart
 A woman's heart
 A woman's heart has the patience of the black, black sea
 Our hands are tied
 Our voices mute
 Such was our fate
 When they cut off our heads
 Little sisters, you seem so estranged
 Some may dress and act the glamoured part, but they'll never have
 A woman's heart (hang your head in shame every time you break)
 A woman's heart (hang your head in shame every time you break)
 A woman's heart (hang your head in shame every time you break)
 A woman's heart burns deadlier than the sleeping beast