‘Tis Pity She’s A Whore (a poem based on the play by John Ford)

Forsooth!

And also fuck you,

Soranzo, light of my life.

Betrayer of my sex

You who hath took from me my life

What a mess you made upon

My innocence.

You who I betrayed my husband for

And yet now you have ruined me.

Having fucked me and over,

You now claim love for another

And one so young-

Yet I see your desires.

Now I am but a whore

A woman known for her

Own desires;

Yet also thank you

You have set me free,

And I am now no longer shackled

By the chains of my sex.

No one expects anything from me

There is nought for them to say except:

‘tis pity I’m a whore.

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