Cosby, Weinstein, Spacey, Turner

Men who smile on the screens

Men who smile as they hurt her.

Men who don’t care as she recalls the scenes

Men who don't care as he recalls the screams.

We blame men and women who have oceans inside of them

Waves of shame and waves of sorrow

Men and women who feel like their temples have been condemned

Praying for just a wave of hope to help them reach tomorrow

Waiting for the day their holy body stops feeling like its borrowed.

I’m sick of my brothers and sisters feeling like they must be silent

I’m sick of people saying “Well you could be a woman in the Middle East…”

I’m sick of having to say “My friend was” or “I know someone who”

And I’m sick of pretending that this elephant in the room can go away

With a man saying #MeToo in an attempt to get into the pants of a woman he just met.

And if you’ve noticed that by now I’ve stopped rhyming

It’s because mine is among the 95,730 reported rapes in 2016,

In a country that claims to be made for me, yet my body doesn't even feel like it’s mine.

We call ourself the most advanced nation yet we are ingrained in a culture that allows the

Desecration of our holy bodies by men of holy status.

My rhyming has stopped because my waves of sorrow have run out

And now all I have left are waves of anger.

Now there is a fiery red in the pool of blue that I have cried

A warmth in the coldness that is shared amongst all of us who don't own our own body.

We wait for our temples to rise again, yet we’re told our holy bodies are holy no more.