Harangued, by the sickening tweed,
Beaten, by the sweetened stick,
Mauled, by the Laughing man,
Ink dries on the folded page….
She was flogged in an open square
Daughters thorned by the over fed,
She then swore to Opie's rabble
She'd return on the wave of dreams
She took Londinium by flight of tactics
She marched to Wattling breathless but steady,
She shamed bold Nero on the Wagon line
She fought back through the lips of Vergil
Harangued, by the Lioness
Beaten, in the Coliseum of Worded Walls,
Mauled, by the silent women
Ink flows from an open book.
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