in an empty room
there is no doubt
you'd choose me

but in a crowded one
would you choose me
or her?

if i am honest,
there aren't many words left
to describe my pain

i've said so much
that the words
mean nothing to me

i am numb
i am stuck
there's not much to it anymore

"i'm not a poet,
i'm just a woman"

feminism was never
etched into our minds,
like patriarchy was;

we must find our own voices,
for man cannot do it for you.

It became more and more
obvious
There was a storm inside her

growing ever stronger

and she sought
to terminate it
before it was too late

It's arguably more difficult to
terminate such storms
when you're fifteen
and still living with your parents

so she decided not to
share her struggle
with them
and reached inside her
for the eye of the storm
with a steel wire she'd kept in
a bottle of hand sanitizer for a day
and a night

Yes, the first raindrops painted the
white of the bathtub

they were crimson
and salty

like her tears

i haven't felt pretty recently
i'm constantly trying to find
something different about myself
that i like

it just never seems to appear

"but it made you stronger"
no, it destroyed me
i was 12

sinching my waist
smaller
and smaller
every week

i'm not skinny enough

and it never stops
i am never satisfied
when i look in the mirror

i will never be satisfied
if i can't see my ribs
piercing through my skin