My womb is not the well
That draws out the water
That gives you life.
And I am not the daughter who fills your pitcher.
I refuse to be what I do for you.
And I refuse to be the shadow of what you do to me.
I am larger than all the vessels you try to contain me in.
And though my face is hidden
I am the Glory.
Greater than glances,
Bigger than bodies.
More revealing than sight.
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