To that man behind a keyboard who asks when I will finally take responsibility,
And that woman who keeps reminding me, us, that we only fall because of our love for easy money,
Do you know my name? Have you kept count?
When I cry "stop killing women!"
You say she must have done something to deserve it,
You ask "how else will we clean these streets of immorality?"
Oh little god on earth you can't judge me for sinning differently!
You can't judge me for not being the man in the transaction,
You say, "Hold my beer and watch as I tarnish your name and slaughter your dignity"
In a resigned voice I say
"Oh well then, most of my fallen sisters are models of morality,
Bodies broken by the very hands that held their hearts"
You say, "Oh well, they should have chosen better men,
Men are killed too...you don't care about men,
Why don't talk about that enhe?"
Have I ever tried to gag you?
Choked your very breath with the body of another victim only to silence you,
A victim whose only use is to block the voices of a breaking woman,
So I ask why don't you speak for that fallen man, sire?
Why are you louder when taking my voice?
You desire for me to cut myself down,
To bite-sized chunks to make myself more palatable for you,
Else you'll cheer to see...
Spread out.
Gory pictures,
Of this body-
This body, my body,
To send to other women as a lesson,
A social media sensation for your consumption,
"Be not like her!" you'll say,
"For she deserved it, don't you see?
These-these are just but the fruits of her labour"
You say I am selling,
Selling, but who is buying?
How dare I exist in a body that refuses to bow down to you,
How dare I take charge of my sexuality!
It is like we are back in Salem but instead of a stake you'll chop me into bits,
Cheer and share memes about axes and hoes!? Whores??
This rib has finally broken,
Forced to bend in all directions just to please you, sire.
Yet you never truly are happy,
You tell me don't dress to provoke,
And yet on the pavements lie a fully covered body of my sister,
The torn screams of 9 year old girl whose only fault is an X instead of a Y.
When I say stop killing women,
I mean stop giving excuses on why I deserve to die,
I mean stop protecting the murderers,
I mean stop telling me what more I could have done to prevent it,
I mean I deserve to live even when I don't dance to your tune.
Disclaimer: This is work of art and is not intended to convey any will to engage in or support illegal acts. The ideas and opinions expressed here do not represent the opinions and values of any of the HERLink members or employees.
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