Lead, coal and cyanide

He looks at me and his eyes are like a snapping jaw
Hands like teeth craving meat to sink into like hyenas would feast on their prey
Inadequate body insinuating itself completely oblivious of the difference
Between a smile and a snarl
I'm snarling stop signs and he understands a giggle and a "go on"
Boy, I was raised to look pretty and you were raised to consume my seduction
When becoming a woman, we are fed poison and turn it into weapons
Or have you forgotten we wear coal powder under our eyes
Lead on our lips
And cyanide in our perfume?
Have you forgotten our godlike art to turn all the violence and all the heavy into something beautiful?
When our voices simmer and steam up, know your place, boy
Look upon the faces of the goddesses that you try so hard to turn into the object of your desire
My lead lips and my charcoal eyes will never be yours for the taking
My cyanide skin will never be yours for the touching
My womanhood will never be yours for the swallowing
Next time you touch me and I allow it, I'll trade the lead for your blood
And the marks of violence, this time, will be worn on my lips and face and voice
Instead of weapons, they will be my trophies
To remind you, man, of your place
I'll be damned if I'm compliant
I'll be damned if you don't understand I'm not yours
With your blood dripping from my lips, boy, you will learn the difference between a smile and a snarl.