I have grown tired,
After only a short twenty years,
Of being something for your eyes.
Tired of slurred compliments,
Uttered from behind glazed eyes,
And catching eyes flick up
from where they had been stuck-
Wow! This person has *******!
Sick of hearing calls and jeers,
shouted from across the street,
from inside of a car,
from the base of an over-sexualised,
and over-sexualising brain.
And so in an attempt to remove myself from such *******,
I have been de-sexualising myself.
I wear long, ill-fitting trousers,
Baggy tops, and thick Doc Martens.
I pull up hair up,
Put my glasses on,
I do not bother with make-up.
I glare and I scowl.
Yet still unwanted attention
Has been able to find me.
Still you grab and grasp at me,
As if I were but a toy at your disposal.
I turned to one,
and looking in his eyes,
I clearly said "No.".
A dog, a child, a human,
Would have understood me;
Yet he did not.
I turned again when his hands didn't stop.
"*******, I said No."
"Slap me, baby, I'm sorry!"
He leered, not sorry in the least.
"I'm not going to hit you.
I'm saying no,
and you're going to respect that."
He left for a moment,
Only to return as handsy as before.
I tell you honestly,
I have no idea
What more I'd need to do
To get some people to see me
Not as a real-life *** toy,
But as a *******
human
being.