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I will not weep for you,
you, who is no lover,
you who,
tears away at skin
a delicate pale cream
to sweet chocolate brown,
and yet,
you rip and bleed,
tear apart tender insides
fragile tissue
take a soul away
so cruel, you slice them open
force youself apon them
and watch in glee as
the person underneath you
squirms in fear of what you are
and what you are capable of.
I will not weep for you,
My tears are for the many
Who cry because of you
you, with your
cruel teeth and claws.
I will not weep
for you..
**** is universal,
Anyone can be *****
Men can be *****, women can be *****,
other genders can be *****
You are brave,
You are beautiful
You are spectacular
And I should have protected you.
Courtney Mar 2019
Husband smiling down at his wife’s baby bump:
He wonders if it will be a boy or a girl
He wonders if it will be a man or a girl
He wonders if it will be his son or a girl,
A girl… a gender he disconnects from because they come with topics that people should keep away from
If it’s a boy he can congratulate him when he brings home a girl
But… if it’s a girl he’ll have to warn her about boys
Boys will be boys and girls should beware.

He wonders how he would cope if his little boy blue decided to wear pink
How he would cope if his son, this man sat crying in his room and was too afraid to say.

He looks down at his wife’s baby bump and wonders…
Äŧül Feb 2017
There're lots of differences between the sexes,
And pregnancy is one of them.
The man can not get pregnant,
And the woman can not fertilize herself.
The woman is the one physically expecting,
And the man is pregnant in his mind.
Thinking and planning for his child's future.
My HP Poem #1421
©Atul Kaushal
Storm Raven Aug 2015
I used to be that happy little girl who danced trough the streets, smiled at everyone she met.
Now I am that depressed boy who locks himself up in his room, never comming out, because people might notice his *****.
Oh, the difference between this two.
But both are part of me and my past.
Who will I tomorrow be?
Zoe R Codd Mar 2015
If you brush off what we say,
We will rip your ears off with our words-
Because our opinions matter.
We can be just as intelligent,
If not more so
Than you are.

But in your mind,
Because we have vaginas,
And you have a *****,
The people whom with you share
The same kind of genitals are oh so
Much more creative than us.

But we will nail it into your stubborn
Skull, the fact that women matter.
We can be intellectuals.
We can be in galleries.
We can do your ******* job-
If we even want to in the first place.
Our opinions are valid and relevant.
We do not deserve to be brushed off
As if we do not have minds of our own.

We refuse to go through torture
To ‘earn’ your respect.
Respect that we do not even need
To be able to succeed.
Life's a Beach Nov 2014
So I hid it
Took it like a written confession and
swallowed it
Decades of genders, females and
males screaming, as I melted down
the word on my tongue they had fought to keep,
that they had killed for and won.
As I joined a flock of sheep who wouldn't
accept a goat
Who didn't want to listen when I wrote down
that I believed in the allegedly frown-worthy
opinion that equality should exist.
That it should be taught right from the yolk
of existence.
That it's regulation requires persistence.

They told me that prejudice was a myth
Ironic, they also told me I shouldn't exist
Told me I was lesbian, like it was an
insult, when I decided to stage a revolt and
mark the popular girl in netball
and win.
self high five
Oh dear, what a schoolgirl sin to
I was taught to take hate by the masses who
yelled that
the classes of acceptance
were unnecessary

Popular girl: small correction, although
I cannot say you personally give me
a feminine *******, I'm bisexual, get it right.
Also examine the fact that you thought I'd only fight
because I wanted you.
When in fact I both loathe and pity you, you
do not understand your worth, and you don't
give proper respect to the earth of your
Who have handed down shoulder to shoulder
something different from the everyday pain.
They've handed down the hope that their strivings
were not vain, and one day this war will

The smoke of a pen, not
a gun, calling

So, I am a feminist and I call for release.
I may add another stanza soon.

— The End —