You’re such a greedy lover when
You’re lovin her
Holdin her down
Stealin her crown
And power
Deflowerin every flower
When you devour
From your tower
And hour after
Hour after
Hour after
While you cower and
Cower and
Cower and

You’re showerin her with kisses
After missin her
Hidin away
Sayin you can’t stay
And pray
‘Bout preyin on every prey
That you lay
Without a place
Out of place out of
Leaving without a trace a
Trace a
Trace a
Of your face
In her space

You’re a disgrace for tryin be
Graceful
It’s distasteful
You say you gotta face full
of “empathy”
Say you have “emotional telepathy”
Work with me
Can’t you see?
Hour after
Hour after
Hour glasses
Are what you need
She’s not free
From your greed
And
You’re a greedy lover when
You’re lovin her

It isn’t fair anymore
You get the fun of wanting to be alive
You get the pleasure of living
You’re not trapped
Why do you get that right?
Why wasn’t I allowed that too?
Did I do something wrong?
I was just a baby
I want to do something to make it up
Something to show I deserve it just like you
It just isn’t fair anymore
You get that joy of not being stuck
I can’t see
It’s too dark
Explain to me how that’s fair
Why does everyone get that but me
The food passes by
But what’s the point
Why do I need to prove myself?
Show how much I need this
I don’t want anything
It’s a right
Not a privilege
Can I stay with you?
There’s enough room for me too
I’m tired
When I sleep it’s okay
But I can’t sleep all the time

The feelings are all too familiar
Rough couches
Brown so bright it’s orange
So cold it burns
So soft it cuts my skin
I can’t recognize it
The feelings are all too familiar

And I’ll cry harder when they return
You fill my heart with hatred
Hate for you
Hate for how I feel
My feelings of hate
Hate themselves too

And the feelings are textile
And the feelings are nauseating
You filled my head with tears
That you got high off of
B*tch

he spreads me open and carves me from the inside out with his fingers while telling me im pretty
i tell myself he cant see that im crying
its dark in his van anyways
time moved on
but i didnt
yet another boy tells me im pretty with the lights on and tears streaming
i think im just meant to be sad
why else would this compliment feel so hand crafted
like they picked my lowest times to tell me how beautiful my pain looks
why else would i be so pretty when i cry

Don’t call it life,
when it’s my life you’re taking,
my future you’re chaining
with laws you’ll never carry,
burdens you’ll never bear.
You preach freedom but give me a cage,
cutting deeper every time you say
I’m not strong enough to choose,
not wise enough to decide
what happens inside my own skin.
I am not your pawn.
Not a battleground for your beliefs,
not a vessel for your “values”
I am fire and fury and a voice unbound,
and I will not sit in silence
while you tear me down.
This choice is mine—
not yours to steal,
not yours to bind,
not yours to strip away in shadowed rooms,
where you sign away my rights
like they’re yours to own.
This body, this voice, this choice is mine,
I am whole, unapologetically, my own.

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.