****.
are you uncomfortable?
                 tell me
                         do you feel sick?
****.
i will say it
        over and over again
                    each time louder
                                and more angry than the last
****.
repeating, repeating, repeating
                                 until you decide to
                                                    take action
                                                            and stop blaming the victim
****.
does it scare you?
            do something about it
                       scream about how enraged
                                          you are that this is even an issue

I am scared.
Not just for myself but for all the girls out there.
For all those girls who walk home alone really late.
For all those girls whose bosses after work hours ask them to wait.
For all the young girls who don't even know much about anything yet.
For all the women whose husbands or fathers get real drunk after sun set.
Why you ask me?
Because of all the disgusting stories I've heard and the terrible things I've seen.
Because men get away with almost anything.
Even if they've ruined a girl's everything.
Because y'all don't want to teach boys to treat women with respect.
You don't want to teach them to back off when she rejects.
You just want to go on about how she should have dressed more appropriately.
But even then would he have treated her differently?
I don't think so.
Because we encouraged this when we failed our girls a long time ago.
When we didn't give justice to all those countless women.
When we let the guilty men walk away as if they had done nothin'.
When we blamed the victim.
When we didn't even let her speak and only listened to him.
We failed when she stopped reporting even, because she didn't want to make it worse for herself.
We failed when we drove her so mad, so devoid of hope that she ended it then and there.

you'll never know how it feels
to be a potato being fried
being mixed with salt or cheese powder
as people eat and digest you in their stomach

you'll never know how it feels
to be a teddy bear being hugged
or punched at because of its softness
since it has no life so you just kept doing it

you'll never know how it feels
to be the fat kid in your class
because you were popular
and everyone admired the pretty ones

you'll never know how it feels
to be gay as people tear you apart
because you're a disgrace
and the bible told you you're invalid

you'll never know how it feels
to be black because your skin is clear
and they never tried to **** you
because of your race and skin color

you'll never know how it feels
to be vincent van gogh as he tried
to poison himself by eating yellow paint
and drinking turpentine

you'll never know how it feels
to be a **** victim
whether you're a man or a woman
because you kept thrusting and it hurt

you'll never know how it feels
to be in heaven or hell
because you're dead
and you're starting somewhere ahead

A war began a year ago,
A war we could avoid.
And now there is no place to go,
No future, only void.

A girl was killed the day before,
And now her coffin's made.
And speeches devil would abhor
Began to charge the maid.

'She is the only one to blame,
That's ****** place to hide!
She had no armor? What a shame!
That's no surprise she died!'

So, what it takes to place no guilt
On little maiden's head?
Is it to hold a wooden hilt
Of sword that stroke her dead?