When a boy who
is yet to learn to respect
any woman that is not his
mother
says 'you are not that
pretty anyway',

Do not grind your jaw into
how dare you.
Do not turn your tongue
into a sharp sword of
violence.  
Resist the urge to give him
the *******.

Instead
put your hand on his
shoulder.
Look him straight in the
eyes and smile.

Ask him how a
women's womb could have
created something so
vile and ugly.
Ask him how his
mother could have given
birth to someone so
sad.

Bid him farewell
and be on your
way

When he grabs
You by your arms and
asks were the hell you think
You are going,

Restrain all the women
Inside you  trying to shapshift
themself into goliaths
preparing for war.

Weak as he maybe
He is still a men remember?
He is still just a boy with territory
flowing in his blood
stream.
A child who still mistakes  everything
He touches  for ownership.

To fight a man who thinks
He is fighting for his
inheritance,
Is to fight a men who has already decided
It's ok  to die.

See to be women
Is to choose your battles
carefully.