Don’t call it life,
when it’s my life you’re stripping,
my body, my rights, my voice you’re silencing
with hands that never held the weight
of this choice.
Tell me,
how is it your right to choose for me,
when you’ve never felt your own body betrayed?
When you’ve never felt the aftermath,
the ache, the anger,
when your life was taken, stolen,
and they asked what you were wearing,
Explained to you how it was your own fault.
How dare you call yourselves defenders of life
when you crush the life in us,
when you leave scars on our hearts
with your careless words,
your polished speeches,
your “righteous fists”.
Don’t you dare tell me what I can do
with this body, this breath, this heartbeat,
like it’s something you’ve earned,
like it’s something you know.
You legislate with hands that’ll never bleed,
never bear the weight, never know the fear—
you write laws with ink you’ll never feel burn,
ink that cuts us open, while you watch from afar.
Tell me,
how is it your right to decide,
how is it your right to choose,
when it’s my life, my body on the line,
when it’s my blood, my bones, my voice
you erase with a pencil?

You never see the hidden scars,
the marks left by hands uninvited,
by voices saying “boys will be boys” while my voice is silenced,
a whisper swallowed by the same mouths that judge me
for what they took.
Is that justice? Is that your idea of freedom?
No, you’ll never know.
You’ll never know because your world isn’t stained with fear,
your nights aren’t haunted by footsteps behind,
by eyes burning holes as you walk down the street
wondering if tonight’s the night someone decides
that your body is now theirs.
I am not your object, your pawn, your game.
Not your pet to control, to condemn, to tame.
I am not a vessel for your morals,
not a canvas for your shame.
This body, my body,
is mine.
Not yours to shackle in laws,
not yours to bind in blame,
not yours to drown in silence.

Don’t you dare tell me it’s love,
don’t you dare tell me it’s “just life”,
when you’ve never carried the weight of choice,
when you’ve never had hands force themselves,
when you’ve never looked at your own body and felt—
disgust, betrayal, rage—
for something that was never yours to begin with.
You’ve never been thirteen, shaking in a cold clinic waiting room,
heart hammering with fear that the world will hate you,
body carved open by guilt, by doubt,
the shame tattooed like a brand on your skin.
And you think you know what love is?
You never see the hidden scars,
the marks left by hands uninvited,
by voices saying “boys will be boys” while my voice is silenced,
a whisper swallowed by the same mouths that judge me
for what they took.
Is that justice? Is that your idea of freedom?

The branches lattice beneath her, black veins
etching the earth's sallow skin. She lies
as if pinned, a moth, the ground
opening its throat to devour her whole.

The trees, thin-limbed and aching, lean in,
their shadows like fingerprints
on her bare thighs. He is above her,
a dark weight, his breath thick
as the stench of iron. Crooked teeth
graze her tender insides, his mouth
a cavern of rot. Her chipped nails catch
on his skin, splintering her last defense—
each struggle a hymn he hums through his teeth.

The bass thumps in the distance,
a pulse too far to save her. His rhythm
is sharper, faster, a saw grinding
through the fragile architecture
of her. Her pelvis cracks beneath
his thrusts, her fragility undone,
his pleasure oozing into her wounds.

Before this—before him—there was the Dragon.
Silver foil unfolded like a revelation,
blue smoke crawling through her lungs,
its touch an anesthetic hymn. She exhaled
herself into nothingness, a slip of a girl,
a husk, unseeing. Vulnerability etched itself
into her marrow. The trees,
silent anatomists, catalogued her surrender.

Now, she is a secret the earth consumes,
her body a whisper the soil licks clean.
The trees will remember the taste of her,
their roots tangled in her hair, their leaves
swaying with the rhythm of her fall.
No one else will know—
only the trees, their mouths sealed with bark,
their witness as still and eternal as stone.

lurking in the shadow
to hunt her down
to put all the blame on her
there’s a man dressed as clown

was it that “her clothes too short”?
was it that “she was too easy”?
reasons circled around
there’s a man dressed as clown

clown is unapologetic
clown is a predator
clown is a hypocrite
there’s a man dressed as clown

It’s said that the human body replaces itself
With entirely new cells every seven years.

In seven years, I will be free from your touch.

In seven years your fingerprints will
No longer be burned into my skin.
In seven years I will be able to
Wash my body and finally feel clean.

In seven years I will be able to kiss
Without getting sick in a cold toilet,
Sobbing sobbing sobbing,
Because my tongue tastes of you.

In seven years, maybe I won’t
Lock my bedroom doors,
Fearing a monster that lives
Not under the bed.

In seven years, one more woman
Will pretend to feel free.

All the men that stare, they don't have to stay
They don't **** , but the **** is conveyed
Eyes have power they say
is that why they hate the gays

eyeliner , eye shadow , lipstick
This is what makes em ick ;
doing drugs
having ***
that's cool isn't it?
looking at the hips that gave you birth;
staring at the ******* that quenched your thirst
maybe the gender is a little cursed
this is the fact that makes my heart burst

**** is a powerful word
a tool for women to onslaught the turds
isn't it a little to late to test the bees and the birds
maybe its better to have a gay son or a thot daughter
then to have a son that rapes his own mother

My buddies shared stories

When they wanted protection

But the ******* fanatics’

Decisions were static


Used all possible ploys

To manipulate guys

Into blowing their loads

In their pink little holes


These girls might be crazy

They may well be *****

For all we know

They might want a baby


Regardless of risk

My guys fell for their tricks

When one ruse failed

The girls went down their list


They said not to worry

*** and ***** are clean

When they ****** the next day

It burned like lit gasoline


They turned up the heat

Seduction was key

Till all they could think

Was with the head between their legs


It won’t feel as good

Sensitivity reduced

You won’t stay hard

And I won’t stay wet and squirt jets


You should accept my request

I thought we were cool

If you just trusted me…

Be carefree like a hippie baby!


Emotional blackmail

I’ll get mad if you insist

To protect your *****

Resistance is futile *****


They said if we must

Let ME wrap it up

I’ll secretly poke holes

Or slip off before you explode


She’ll have no *** at all

Or she’ll force you down

And stay on top

Making you drop the ****** to the ground


She says she’s on the pill

When she’s definitely not

Even if you pull out

There’s still ***** in your pre-***, no doubt


Either she’ll give you disease

Or steal your seed for a baby

None of that is love

So wear a glove bubba


At the end of the story

They said don’t stick your **** in crazy

She might get too attached

You’ll wake up with your **** and ***** detached