Cyclops Evolution Poem by Saul McCandless

Cyclops evolution they called her
It wasn't kind and it wasn't fair. She had become a product of their insecurities.
She had been born under an accident w/ circumstance beyond her actions.
She had a familiar scent to her lips, lips that had never been caressed by another's desire.
Her hair was always on fire. No one ever tried to quench it's boredom path.
She was always being provoked and often choked on their A-bomb lies.
She died in silence, a dozen or so times a day and was regularly ravaged, a dozen or so miles from her birthplace.
Her quest then took her east to the feasts of communism and oppression.
She felt at home here.
It could never be her home.

Aim!
Fire!
Reload!

Aim!
Fire!
Reload!

She became even easier to find and what she sought came to merely, mortally nothing.
She bowed to destiny and gave in just short of Zeus and the truth.
For the rest of her waking life, she resented her birth, her education and the defying dream scape, notions she knew too well, would come to pass.
In later years she became sour disciple and all who thought they knew her, unjustly hated her.
The 'hater' had become the 'hated'.