I feel the soft black skirt I just bought 

tugged down by my hands.

Those same hands that I would use to pray 

for a stomach ache to go away

now protect from prying eyes.

Looks and shouts from boys in cars crash over us like a wave.

A brutal rip current that almost drowns us every time. 

However, we learn to swim at a young age

now familiar with the lung filling water ripping our breath away.

We learn not to raise our voices to disrupt the current.

Others learn to turn their heads with ease,

leaving us to drown in the water.

We learn to hide ourselves.

Coats draped over shoulders at night

and fists jammed full of cold metal keys

like brass knuckles. 

Prepared for the fight that’s lasted forever,

and the fight that one day will hopefully be over.