The belt which holds your pants up,
The same belt holds my head high.
The game which you play at night,
The same game I deny.
The heels which I wear,
from them beware.
The make-up in my bag,
Is yet another instrument hiding my despair.
The smiles with which you greet me,
One day I will turn the tables Around.
Maybe today i ain't doing it,
But it doesn't mean that I wouldn't do it ever.
The day will come nd it will come soon.
Maybe you do not acknowledge me today,
But remember my day will come too.
It isn't only about what you did to me,
But what you did to hundreds out there.
Maybe it isn't daily that we speak up,
But the day we do can put behind the bars thousands of you.
(This poem is a message from a **** survivor to her rapists)
