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Hello world, I'm living in fear. He won’t stop. Escaping, Hiding. Again and Again. Reporting, Ignoring. Running scared.
Another black man is killed Another trans kid commits suicide Another woman is sexually harassed Aren't we just statistics In the sadistic game of life?
It's not the same, he says. It's not worth the same fight, it doesn't mean the same thing, it doesn't hurt the same way. Except every now and again I hear a man yelling after me, I'm a bitch,
#MeToo for every time her hair wrapped my fingers, and her body hugged the cold rim of the toilet, because you decided she wasn’t drunk enough. #MeToo, for all the accidental grazes,
I cannot sleep for saddness nor for ill thoughts I cannot sleep for grief in my heart and pain in my mind There is a sickness in my drumming on my skull NO NO NO played over again
He told me I was “pretty” as he brushed my bangs back. He told me I should be “his” as he wrapped his arm around me tightly. Cute, right?
Cheyann Washington_ connections / humanities Is it okay? Is it okay to call me out of my name? Like baby, Lil mama Screaming for my attention
The Irony in Having the Name “Hope” H.C. My name is Hope and I may be white But that does not mean that I am blind To the violence To the discrimination
My generation has been bred into stupidity A government issue codependency High on freedom then drowning in debt I still can’t balance a checkbook yet
7:00 am My alarm screams at me like a tea kettle wanting to be taken off the burner.
It’s that punched in the stomach about to throw up stressed out kind of feeling That way they looked at you made your skin crawl kind of feeling That kiss you never saw coming and by the time you realized what was happening
Jumping from my car I grab at stuff spilling away from my grasp And I do my best to avoid the unmake-upped gaze That undoubtedly would appear in the rearview In a half jog I pass a middle-aged man
No Doesn't mean Try to change my mind Or try again. It doesn't mean Repharase the question, Or Tell me come on. It doesn't mean pressure me By saying it's been a month
Dear boy with the alluring smile, Thank you for taking away my trust once again:
My body is not my own. As my 18th birthday approaches, so does my entry into adulthood As does my loss of agency. My value as a person will rest on how sexually appealing I seem My hard work? My morals?
I am Seven and I am at theClass lunch table with my crushHe never explained to me what sexWas but he talked about it anAwful lot and before he asked meIf I would have sex with him which I
In this body I feel nothing but lust A single touch or look Will give me a rush I won't care for you tmrw I won't dream of you tonight
In this big frightening world Lives a lonely closed off girl Though that’s only how she feels The pain seems so real To walk around everyday And to feel as if there is no true way
People ask why I'm terrified of snakes, never touching them, Why I will never be too close to them, so I tell them why.
One falls from the sky
He appears weak on the outside. Slow on the legside. And smiles on the faceside. His mind is still capable Of what? I dont't know. Finally my ears hear what he thinks.