I have spoken
too hard, too much,
I can't feel my face anymore.

I am a fighter.
My fist aren't
as powerful
as my mouth
(as much as i'd like them to be)
so I swing my tongue to
form out syllables,
instead of my arm.

Unfortunately for you,
I can't fight who I am.

I am not a dog who
will roll over for you,
then expect you
to throw me a bone.

I am not a woman
you will pressure into silence.

I am not a person,
you will force to conform.

You scream
your injustices
around me and

I disagree
I fight back.
I don't back down.

I don't apologize for it.

My lips stand
so badly beaten,
blood fills cracks
of my dry lips,
but I'd say
it was worth it.

I'd take
a couple of napkins of
soaked blood
over submission
to wrong doing
Anytime.