I am angry at men for so many reasons.
Women being assaulted every three minutes or so
Forcing us to bear all the weight of support
While not being granted any responsibility
At my dad for dying and leaving
At my step dad for having an affair
At my brother for hitting me so **** much while growing up
At my other brother for always staying away when he was unsure if we loved him.
At every man who hurt, threatened, hit my sister
For shredding our worth and self esteem
to cover up the immense insecurities men feel
due to societal expectations and pressures
put forth by generations of men who came before them
A toxic patriarchy they themselves will continue
For silencing me in every ******* conversation.
MOTHER Earth, NOT father.
****. YOU.

Is she satisfied
By your way of selfish love 
Does she act like those
Women in **** you can rise above 

It’s all what he likes 
It’s all when he comes
It’s all him choking her 
It’s all him the hunter
When do you even see her liking it
When do you ever hear her finishing first 

Do you make her scream 
While your **** is raining 
Do you make her feel
Like she’s not pray but a queen

Reddening skin 
Painful blisters
Bad disease 
From your mistress

Lipstick whisper
Fake lash twinkle
Silicon Valley
In your body

You call me ugly girl without the chemicals
On my face, on my nails and in my hair
Growing it out
Everywhere

Pluck it out, don’t scream loud
And  take the pain as beauty’s price
Spend your money and time
And dye and dye
Until you die

He doesn’t notice
How high the heels
He doesn’t care
How it feels

Norms, norms
Abnormal norms
Inhumane morphs
In animal forms

Cross your legs, bow your head,
laugh softly, muffle your tears.
Occupy as little space as you can.

Don't look into their eyes,
they may see the fire blazing there.
Fires beckon to be extinguished.

Sit silently on this pedestal,
be the shiniest offering you can be.
The seller doesn't profit from bruised peaches.

Be the object of my desire,
here's a mold you must fit in.
Walking in the middle may confuse us.

You are the creator of the world,
but we will distract you with petty battles.
So you never realize you can win wars.

Hold your breath when you're scared,
don't move at all while I touch you.
Your shyness is your beauty.

Dressed in your bridal finery upon death,
frozen in the only identity that counts.
You will be perfectly still, finally perfect.

She deserved it.
Everyone agrees with me.
The signals mixing with the cocktails
and I don't even know what time it is.

She had it coming.
Her parents told her so.
I was acting like any guy would. Should.
Skin taunting. Hips hypnotising me with
That rhythmic pulsing
Suggesting
Requesting.

She wanted it.
How was I supposed to know
when she bit her
lip that way, flirted that
way, smiled that
way, dressed
that
way
asked
for
it.

She did it to herself.
It's not my fault.
That's the way things are, right?

When it comes to these things, Woman is despised.
Her *** is inferior in the face of man.
Her body is disgraced and considered unholy, deemed "temptress" and "defiler".
Why is this so?
What benefit is there to the dichotomy of the ****** and the *****?
Why is there only these two things which woman can aspire to?
Why, when Woman is strong and steadfast as the mountain
Who will not bow no matter how the wind howls!
When Woman is as fierce as the flame that ripples in her heart
and the searing heat of the volcano--
Why, then, is this language so?
Wasteful, wanton
Grotesque, sinful
Disgusting, passive
Unholy, sinful
Why? Why, when her womb creates the very essence of life on earth, is her beauty scorned?
Alas! Her very creations despise her existence
The sons of her ***** lack reverence for their mothers
For the very essence of Woman is taboo.
The apex of her thighs is at once deeply coveted and sincerely ignored
For there exists no greater shame than the moment her ***** first sheds its blood.
That first splash of crimson and black is the end of her girlhood
For once that first blood is drawn, her Womanhood cannot be denied.
At that moment, she becomes Object
No longer human, no longer girl
She is Object
To be coveted and have eyes laid upon her
She is Object
To be salivated over and seen as the ****** plaything of the Male Eye
She is Object, and she is human no more.
After the first emergence of ******* from her ribcage, the first rounding of her hips and thighs,
She is no longer worthy of anything but lust and contempt
For, it is certainly her fault that these sinful feelings arise.
Why on earth would it be the fault of the toxic mindset of Man, of his instinct to pillage and take what is not his?
Woman's body is her own, and yet, she is not treated so
She is laughed at, mocked, and spoken to in rage
Her rights of choice are threatened, soon to possibly go away
What, in this, is there to learn?
Why is our view of Woman so?
The gleam of the Patriarchy is too enticing to those who would change
And damning to those who refuse.
But they should be very afraid.
The righteous might of Woman is a force to be reckoned with.
Because, after all...

Hell hath no fury like a Woman scorned.