Pussy.

Should I speak softly?
Is that what you’d like to hear?
Losing your freedom,
Is that the kind of thing that you fear?
I wouldn’t know.

From the start I know that men
have been pulling me apart.
And I know it’s not their fault.
It’s the very top that controls the rest.
Everyone else is doomed to embark
on an impossible quest.

I wasn’t invited because I don’t have a penis
between my legs.
But plenty of guys out there
are willing to share.
Should I accept it?
When I do, I’m a whore.
When I don’t, I’m a bore.

I’d like to go for a walk at midnight
all by myself.
Instead I’m trapped inside this room,
trapped inside my mind,
with all these ideas
about how I’ll overcome you.

Hello,
I’d like to introduce you to my cause.
You see,
you seem to believe your mind works better
because you have balls.
And I would like to speak to you
about what exactly does go on in my head.
Unless you’d like to continue
to fill in the blanks instead.

Do I ever cross your mind?
Am I worth a moment of your time?
I haven’t quite decided if you are worth a moment of mine.

It’s so precious.
Every day I’m a breath closer to thirty.
And we all know that is when they will start
to dig my grave.
I must be careful not to slip in early.
I’ve been known to misbehave.

You’re part of a machine.

*                      *                      *

I was your teenaged dream.

You carried me into your castle
made me your stand in bride;
the female half
of the expected roles
that are performed
for the first time
on a good Christian’s wedding night.

But I spoke softly.
I didn’t want you to hate me.
And you were worried about you hair.
I could have easily upset you.
You could have easily crushed my own
young psyche.

A swing and a hit
to the lip.
I’ve learned not to speak out of turn.
Not when the company
is looming over me.
Or peering out from the shadows.

I learned to see the man behind the fist.
I had to,
in order to survive.
But it is not necessary
for the man to recognize
the woman or child
behind
the bruised, blue eye.

I am not free.
I can not leave the house without company.
I can not dress for warm weather
without a ball and chain tethered
to my high heeled feet.
I can not look every stranger in the eye
when we meet.
I am too sexy or not sexy enough.
I am an airhead or a bitch.
I am an angel or a witch.

Should I speak softly?
Is that what you want?
Because I am a woman?

Because I have a cunt?

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