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November 15, 2016
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No “wait, let her finish”
all thoughts of me diminish
when he focuses on my wide eyes
mistakes them for something to civilize

It burns like a hot iron gate
Bile high in my throat as I’m told to wait
by his words overlapping mine
A prison of man’s design

Cement walls wet with the sweat of women
discomfort so thick you could swim in
Eyes on every surface, mouths on each floor
they’re taught to be flattered by the phrase “you whore”

in a split second reaction
Disgust that even a fraction
of their body had acknowledged
a testimony of such bondage

to the expectation that they must
give every man their undying trust
That they shall give him their world and some
‘cause in a park he hollered “Baby, I can make you cum”

Moral codes centuries old
chain up those who are so bold
as to express their point of view
chalked up as having “an attitude”

One by one they’re shoved in the brig
though nowadays they’d call him a pig
The self-proclaimed king locks them away
claims it’s safe and tells them to stay
in their place, for he knows best
he, who rules and calls himself blessed 

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