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#harassment
To Malcolm G and those following this thread: It has come to my attention that some individuals, specifically Malcolm G, have been spending a significant amount of time questioning the authenticity of my creative work on Hello Poetry and Suno. Let’s set the record straight: I am the primary author of my poetry. While I utilize modern digital tools to help bring my lyrics to life musically—as many creators do today—the soul, the words, and the direction come from my own experiences. Attacking another creator’s process and calling their work "fake" or "bad junk" doesn't make you an expert; it just makes you a critic with too much free time. If my style isn't for you, that’s fine. But let’s not confuse a difference in taste with a lack of authenticity. I’m here to create, not to seek permission or validation from people who would rather tear others down than build something of their own. I’ll keep writing and releasing my music; you’re welcome to keep watching from the sidelines. Here is my play list for Suno. Malcolm G is a tity baby who has no style or love for anyone except his exalted self.
0
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 8:38 PM UTC
OPEN RESPONSE TO MALCOLM G!!
I can tell, that you really think, you're the **** ...Yes, oh, yes. Oily slick, and steaming, and I wouldn't filthy my dainty hands, to scoop you, into mine. Yet, here you be, gracing us graceless maidens, with your polish, and presence. ...But you're nothing like a gift, to me. Your fingertips, wander into the intimate folded creases, of dry, withering palms: mine, and they circle. But my hands, are persimmons. Fussy fruits, which rot, and recoil at the uninvited touch. ...So don't you ******* touch me. ...Unwanted. Parasitic. It's infectious, in the way you think your smile, is. But my body, is under the red tape. if I spring back, and spit, in your eye, cobra-like, consider it an act, of martial law. I'm an entire police state, and I don't fall beneath, your jurisdiction. ...So don't you ******* touch me. ...Creepy ****** I'm not your mirror. I won't blow cutesy kisses, or bat kitten lashes, back, at you. I'm not here to tell you, what you want, to hear. Something behind my eyes, is ticking, in measured intervals. You don't hear a sound. You won't feel the impact, either til the shrapnel, hits, and you float, facedown, Narcissus like in the Dead Sea, of these salty blues. ...So don't you ******* touch me. ... Unwanted. Yet, here you are, Playing Pictionary, on a shrinking canvas, with probing fingers. They caress my heart, and fate lines, in sensuous tickles, And my stomach, flips. I feel... sick. I feel sick. I feel sick. They tease, my flesh, in long, gangly brushes, like leggy spiders. I couldn't be more repulsed, unless they crawled, into my open sores, to lay their eggs. I feel...sick. I feel sick. I feel sick. ...Unwanted. The flat line, of my mouth, is a no-solicting sign, on a sealed door, of a face. Why are you trying the knobs? Why are you poking the locks? You're uninvited. Unwanted. ...So don't you ******* touch me.
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Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 9:20 AM UTC
Unwanted
I can tell, that you really think, you're the **** ...Yes, oh, yes. Oily slick, and steaming, and I wouldn't filthy my dainty hands, to scoop you, into mine. Yet, here you be, gracing us graceless maidens, with your polish, and presence. ...But you're nothing like a gift, to me. Your fingertips, wander into the intimate folded creases, of dry, withering palms: mine, and they circle. But my hands, are persimmons. Fussy fruits, which rot, and recoil at the uninvited touch. ...So don't you ******* touch me. ...Unwanted. Parasitic. It's infectious, in the way you think your smile, is. But my body, is under the red tape. if I spring back, and spit, in your eye, cobra-like, consider it an act, of martial law. I'm an entire police state, and I don't fall beneath, your jurisdiction. ...So don't you ******* touch me. ...Creepy ****** I'm not your mirror. I won't blow cutesy kisses, or bat kitten lashes, back, at you. I'm not here to tell you, what you want, to hear. Something behind my eyes, is ticking, in measured intervals. You don't hear a sound. You won't feel the impact, either til the shrapnel, hits, and you float, facedown, Narcissus like in the Dead Sea, of these salty blues. ...So don't you ******* touch me. ... Unwanted. Yet, here you are, Playing Pictionary, on a shrinking canvas, with probing fingers. They caress my heart, and fate lines, in sensuous tickles, And my stomach, flips. I feel... sick. I feel sick. I feel sick. They tease, my flesh, in long, gangly brushes, like leggy spiders. I couldn't be more repulsed, unless they crawled, into my open sores, to lay their eggs. I feel...sick. I feel sick. I feel sick. ...Unwanted. The flat line, of my mouth, is a no-solicting sign, on a sealed door, of a face. Why are you trying the knobs? Why are you poking the locks? You're uninvited. Unwanted. ...So don't you ******* touch me.
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93
There’s a piece of me thrown in ungraspable territory Forever captured by bigotry - belonging to those who silently used me. Unknowingly, I was greeting it - Smiling as teachers witness absurdities Thankful as they complimented my body Proud when the shy guy finally touched me. Little did I know it was demeaning I’ve been deceived about the relevance of my skin Not abused nor victimised We’d laugh - so much it was normalised. Later defiance sprang from envy I’d bring a knife to the party, act a little sassy I’d talk back when they chased me, wear a skirt insolently. Just testing boundaries as they fancy my body - may I help them **** off at the sight of me? // And after all that time there’s a piece in me One part shame one part indignity Forever confused and tranquilly fury.
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Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 4:45 PM UTC
a piece of me // a piece in me
Even though I remain silent, it doesn’t mean that I am broken, innocence just completely stolen, you knew what you did was wrong but yet nothing came from it, trying to get justice for it all to go astray, you didn’t give a **** you were just able to walk away. For me it’s different, flashbacks freeze me in my body, eyes darted at people who are just enjoying themselves, but I’m on the lookout for something to happen, it never does but I feel so trapped. Justice comes in so many forms but yet I feel none, even though I have moved on my body doesn’t, the heart palpitations, my breathing stops, eyes keep moving and I begin to shake, I don’t know why I feel this way, all I wanted was justice just one time, while you can move on and it doesn’t seem to matter to you. Maybe one day just once I could get my body back, the road is long but I am on the right track. My body is not something for you to enjoy anymore, it is a body that shows more love than it should at times. I know one day I will feel safe again. But why must I feel like everyone is an enemy rather than a friend?
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Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 6:08 AM UTC
Justice
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.
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Nov 25, 2024
Nov 25, 2024 at 9:14 PM UTC
Seven Years Will Never Be Enough
I'm far from being a worthy investment It's pretty evident Someone would have every right to be hesitant And feel the growth of resentment When so many details are absent My mood isn't constant Had a mind but lost it Thoughts run rampant But are often incoherent Called the cops on myself for self inflicted harassment A living predicament The opposite of a sycophant My betterment is, at best, flippant And I can already tell everybody's sick of it ©2024
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May 26, 2024
May 26, 2024 at 11:56 AM UTC
~•§•~ Often Incoherent ~•§•~
Bamboo sticks will never bend. Bamboo sticks will never break. Bending down is a moringer stick. Breaking down is for dry moringer. The book should be judged by its contents. The heart will never be defined by its face. Open the roof and see inside. And open the door to see the house. Read the contents of the book before going on. Read the heart, then accept the face's smile. Find the building before opening its roof. Knock at the door before opening the house. Why will the judge just judge the book by its cover? Learn it before attacking. Well, reason before rumour. Wash your mouth and chew the words. Attacking before learning is ignorance. Rumour before reasoning is illiteracy. Remember, your mouth is odorous. Wash it again and again and again.
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Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 4:03 PM UTC
Bamboo
THE TRUTH NO.  DONT YOU ******* TOUCH ME I say. As he takes his hand away He smirks. I laugh At his smirks, at his mentality Poor boy, he’s lost his sense of humanity He needs to check on reality I feel sad for him because in his game no one wins, In his game, I’m the little dot and he’s the packman, My god I want to SLAP man. I choose to **** him with my kindness. I say, my eyes are up here, My heart is down there, And my soul is inside of me. Don’t you dare focus on what’s behind of me, you’ll miss the main event... In life it’s not really about your actions, it’s all about intent. JUST LET HER DANCE! JUST LET HER BE! YOU THINK SHE’S BEAUTIFUL? WELL WHY DONT YOU TELL HER THAT SHES FRUITFUL? I **** him with wisdom. He shrinks... His ***** shrinks with him, I shower my elegance over his confusion and leave him thinking... Am I the one that’s loosing? What am I gaining from all my female friends complaining? A short lived ***** I say, Human beings will show you when they want you in their space If you’re listening to what I’m saying, you’ll be looking at my face. You’ll be looking into my heart, That’s the only part Of me, I want you to really see, I’m not dancing for you. IM DANCING FOR ME. I put him in a jeopardy, I **** him with sincerity, Integrity. I show him that I don’t want to really **** him I just want him to Be I say, stop worrying about me, worry about yourself. Worry about the experiences you’ve had in your life to make you NOT consider MY mental health This isn’t about me, this is you. THIS IS YOU. And I forgive him with my truth.
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Feb 5, 2024
Feb 5, 2024 at 10:15 PM UTC
THE TRUTH
THE TRUTH NO.  DONT YOU ******* TOUCH ME I say. As he takes his hand away He smirks. I laugh At his smirks, at his mentality Poor boy, he’s lost his sense of humanity He needs to check on reality I feel sad for him because in his game no one wins, In his game, I’m the little dot and he’s the packman, My god I want to SLAP man. I choose to **** him with my kindness. I say, my eyes are up here, My heart is down there, And my soul is inside of me. Don’t you dare focus on what’s behind of me, you’ll miss the main event... In life it’s not really about your actions, it’s all about intent. JUST LET HER DANCE! JUST LET HER BE! YOU THINK SHE’S BEAUTIFUL? WELL WHY DONT YOU TELL HER THAT SHES FRUITFUL? I **** him with wisdom. He shrinks... His ***** shrinks with him, I shower my elegance over his confusion and leave him thinking... Am I the one that’s loosing? What am I gaining from all my female friends complaining? A short lived ***** I say, Human beings will show you when they want you in their space If you’re listening to what I’m saying, you’ll be looking at my face. You’ll be looking into my heart, That’s the only part Of me, I want you to really see, I’m not dancing for you. IM DANCING FOR ME. I put him in a jeopardy, I **** him with sincerity, Integrity. I show him that I don’t want to really **** him I just want him to Be I say, stop worrying about me, worry about yourself. Worry about the experiences you’ve had in your life to make you NOT consider MY mental health This isn’t about me, this is you. THIS IS YOU. And I forgive him with my truth.
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44
I'm in an unfamiliar place Surrounded by people i don't know Every time someone looks at me for to long, I get nervous He walks by He seems nice at first Old enough to be my grandfather and walks with a cane At first I think he's just trying to say hi I was wrong He winks and calls me “sweetheart” Does he know I'm only fifteen? Most tell me I look older, maybe he thinks i'm a college kid, out on the town I get nervous, both from him and the time, i'm running late I walk a couple blocks down the street He follows I try to ignore him and keep my distance He follows I get on the bus He follows The reason I always get off near public places and lots of traffic Because of people like the man from the bus stop Who look at you like your something he would like to ruin                                                              destroy your innocence                                                                            make you feel ***** Looking you up and down even in your ***** cargo pants and plain black t-shirt I don't think I look particularly pretty, not someone you would look at twice, not one that stands out yet this happens time and time again I can't help but wonder why? As I keep glancing at the man walking behind me on my way home. Why? As the man keeps glancing at me on the bus. Why? As I keep getting off at the stop by the store, in case I need to lose a man following. Why? As I have to fake a smile and pretend to check my phone while ignoring his flirtatious jokes. Why?
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Apr 4, 2023
Apr 4, 2023 at 11:28 AM UTC
The Man From The Bus Stop
I'm in an unfamiliar place Surrounded by people i don't know Every time someone looks at me for to long, I get nervous He walks by He seems nice at first Old enough to be my grandfather and walks with a cane At first I think he's just trying to say hi I was wrong He winks and calls me “sweetheart” Does he know I'm only fifteen? Most tell me I look older, maybe he thinks i'm a college kid, out on the town I get nervous, both from him and the time, i'm running late I walk a couple blocks down the street He follows I try to ignore him and keep my distance He follows I get on the bus He follows The reason I always get off near public places and lots of traffic Because of people like the man from the bus stop Who look at you like your something he would like to ruin                                                              destroy your innocence                                                                            make you feel ***** Looking you up and down even in your ***** cargo pants and plain black t-shirt I don't think I look particularly pretty, not someone you would look at twice, not one that stands out yet this happens time and time again I can't help but wonder why? As I keep glancing at the man walking behind me on my way home. Why? As the man keeps glancing at me on the bus. Why? As I keep getting off at the stop by the store, in case I need to lose a man following. Why? As I have to fake a smile and pretend to check my phone while ignoring his flirtatious jokes. Why?
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32
Sensing a presence in my bed I plead that this is all in my head My gut wrenches. Heart sinks once my eyes fix upon you I dare not blink Cold, numbness proceeding I could never prepare for this feeling You cannot meet my eyes now they aren’t closed in sleep. Mirrors to a soul you violated You ******* creep
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Nov 18, 2022
Nov 18, 2022 at 7:31 AM UTC
Harassment: The prey
# **Your door wasn’t locked and I wasn’t going to wait Not after I sprinted here, that’s quite a long way I’ve run 3 kilometres just to see you** Kiss my shoe, be grateful. Surely I am owed some compensation For my extensive dedication I’ll take advantage the only time I know you’re weak You can’t set boundaries when you’re asleep Your vulnerability makes me greedy the thought of you subdued, **** Debilitated and unconscious Entitled, I claim that time with you #
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Nov 18, 2022
Nov 18, 2022 at 7:27 AM UTC
Harassment: The predator
men down the alley don't care for the person that they hunt they care for the prey like manner of the scared
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Jun 7, 2022
Jun 7, 2022 at 1:02 PM UTC
down the alley
Day after day Week after week Month after month Year after year You've shown the world How not to be an employer Treating your employees like slaves Demeaning them with insults That were way below the belt Denying them their basic pay For which they have braved storms Scaled towering mountain peaks And dived to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean And firing a few of them For no justifiable reason whatsoever Today, however You have sunk to a new low It is bad enough to not pay your employees But to accuse them of not doing their jobs And lie to their faces' That you've been paying them properly Is despicable to the core And goes on to show That you are nothing more Than a rat in the gutter But then, the rat at least deserves to be put out of its misery You, on the other hand Deserve to rot in the confines of Tihar Jail For a very very long time Of course, we all know the famous saying An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind But it applies only to human beings You are not one
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Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 12:55 PM UTC
Sinking To New Lows
Mannequins in the shop front window, The new years batch take their seats, Lined up on display, unknowingly. Between words you lick your lips - quivering Under your brow, behind your eyes, ********** each body in the back of your mind. Little lambs to the slaughter, So meek and so mild. Just as your precious Herbert Speaks of his young bride.
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Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 2:44 PM UTC
Mannequins
is it love or the parasite ? my pilot bulk                       aims for relief        it pursues this via                             your romantic correction in public arena                   a library stair                     (i never prior encountered you) one step as foreigner         the approach and upon a swift internal pendulum i make witless incisions hurried mended sentences directed stuns invasive i demand the compromise                   of your company hastily push at boundaries and you're not so accommodating                                                  but on a further occasion same building we exchange a battering of conversation that    then        matures            into barter-like use of language despite my harassments   a civil cultivation is unearthed tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen loosen my demanding appearance disregard my dignity      a skin suit about the ankles you're open in a vein of similarity    you flesh out your own controls we've progressed quickly there's an aped conduct                  and flashing attitudes this time we share table space a nearby café we have become quite unmanned     repeated meet ups upon humours we adjust small habits     and shake on perceptions where we overlap it becomes    more an overlay of rationalities         than resented promises fast time passes and i move into your living space                                   i pick a wildflower                                                                    and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table we agree on its colour                                               we agree on a book to make our bible material we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share the clothes i am to wear i switch to your diet and you cease taking medications we sleep on your lawn like children and bring down the night sky for comfort during the day we wear our sleep               like a lubrication for our chores and go about our productivity               in genuine partnership yet i feel we're just out of reach             of some dark harm we are an excellent sample pair it is all vital we grow stronger the more we quiz it recycling our ********** refine our agreements await further impulses and come closer to plug so.. do we please love       or simply indulge a parasite ?
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Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
a cultivation
is it love or the parasite ? my pilot bulk                       aims for relief        it pursues this via                             your romantic correction in public arena                   a library stair                     (i never prior encountered you) one step as foreigner         the approach and upon a swift internal pendulum i make witless incisions hurried mended sentences directed stuns invasive i demand the compromise                   of your company hastily push at boundaries and you're not so accommodating                                                  but on a further occasion same building we exchange a battering of conversation that    then        matures            into barter-like use of language despite my harassments   a civil cultivation is unearthed tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen loosen my demanding appearance disregard my dignity      a skin suit about the ankles you're open in a vein of similarity    you flesh out your own controls we've progressed quickly there's an aped conduct                  and flashing attitudes this time we share table space a nearby café we have become quite unmanned     repeated meet ups upon humours we adjust small habits     and shake on perceptions where we overlap it becomes    more an overlay of rationalities         than resented promises fast time passes and i move into your living space                                   i pick a wildflower                                                                    and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table we agree on its colour                                               we agree on a book to make our bible material we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share the clothes i am to wear i switch to your diet and you cease taking medications we sleep on your lawn like children and bring down the night sky for comfort during the day we wear our sleep               like a lubrication for our chores and go about our productivity               in genuine partnership yet i feel we're just out of reach             of some dark harm we are an excellent sample pair it is all vital we grow stronger the more we quiz it recycling our ********** refine our agreements await further impulses and come closer to plug so.. do we please love       or simply indulge a parasite ?
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77
i don't even know anymore am i being abused am i being harassed am i being loved all feel the same scary painful but i'm good at ignoring it
0
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 10:37 AM UTC
emotion
but I know just as a cat flinches when you move to pet it, so do I. we both no longer know the difference between affection and attack.
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Aug 6, 2021
Aug 6, 2021 at 2:40 AM UTC
scaredy cat
your greedy hands are no greedier than mine, as your fingers travel past my waistline, thinking that i’m about to waste my time on a man like you, “too good to be true,” kinda borrowed, about to be blue. my greedy hands will clench, as i lean closer on that bench, ignoring your disgusting cigarette stench. “i’ll break your ******* jawline if your hands don’t leave my waistline,” and you didn’t waste time running away.
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Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 3:40 AM UTC
run
Sadness fills my chest when I see kids laugh and play with friends. Friends that I never got to have. Happiness that was sadness when all I got was myself and a note pad Seeing happiness filling their hearts m with a sound of a symphony remarking my best words. My heart fill with joyous, jealous, anger because I wish I could of had the love they had. Now you see, watching the present reflects your past in a negative or positive way. Bullies smashing my face with a ball, or rubbing it against a rubber band, making me ****** dis confident. Coming home to a world of emptiness, and pain.
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Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 9:35 PM UTC
Untitled
Im a barbie girl, in this barbie world It's fantastic, everyone's plastic You cannot feel me their Why do you think you can stop and stare ********** me with that, imagination. I post daily, fooling everybody That I am perfect. It's horrific. Convorting myself into this typical dumb blond chartor. Glaze upon my skin as it is flawless Little do they know it's stage makeup and filters I have many scars on the inside. I am starving, but cannot dream to take a bite Got to pretend that my body is perfect. Im a barbie girl, in this toxice world I am drowning, but the waters plastic You cannot feel me their But you could not care ********** me quickly, it's fantastic. Telling all the little girls thats i'm so happy And this is their dream life While hiding in the corner hating every part of myself. Somebody save me from this glitter nightmare. I'm stuck inside this dollhouse The walls won't break They just dress me up, because my lifes a game But jokes on them, my blond is fake. I hate my pretty pink prison. Im a barbie girl living in a hell world, It is honestly fantastic, no my heart is plastic You maze well touch me their and undress me anywhere Now I have realized no one really cares.    Yes im a barbie girl, living in a barbie world I am now an addict , it's fantastic No one want to stop and stare No one wants to feel me there When I'm washing down the pain with pills and drinks.
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May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 2:44 AM UTC
When I grow up I want to be just like Barbie
Even in lock down I see young girls as pray Through the eyes of social media Are you to blame? Sexilising my body Until I am an nothing but an object “Don't go on instagram then” they say “But I've done nothing wrong.” Our girls and women Our daughters and our mothers Anxious to walk on our paths to education or work. 6 out of 10 dread the thought of stepping on the streets once again. Its 2021 and our woman have fear Like the yorkshire ripper is out and about. I curse my sight I don't want to see that 97% are victims We are survivors Why have 80% been harassed in public Look with your heart. This is not normal Stop normalising. I am not a lamb and you are not my shepherd To all the girls that are in their school uniforms Getting the whistle by people older than their fathers Im sorry. I'm sorry that 1 out of 3 have lived through this. And sorry for all the little girls hold their best friend in their arms, As she sobs I don't want to see this This is not my future So let me eat snow whites apple and wake me up When the world learns to give a ****
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May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 8:33 PM UTC
I don’t want to see
When I was 5 I wanted to be a dolphin, When I was 8 I Wanted to be a hairdresser, At 12 I wanted to join the army. And now I want to be safe. When I dreamed of growing up I was excited for freedom. I never thought i be in the same trap I've been stuck in since I started puberty I dreamed of falling in love like my parents, Like my grandparents. But now I'm stuck in a generation that is random nudes on snapchat is the new romance. ‘It’s my fault’ I have curves, long hair, big chest. We have be singing the same song since forever, We finally added a new chorus in 1920, But now it’s time for a new one, No one is listening to music from 100 years ago. No one thinks it’s still relevant . When I was 13 I wanted to be beautiful, When I was 14 I wanted to be skinny At 15 I wanted to be successful. I don’t want to be cat called in the street, Boys it’s no compliment It’s scary. I’m scared. Always fearful . I don’t want to walk alone at night Don’t want to pass a group of boys Having that pit in the bottom of your stomach is exhausting. I am someone’s daughter. I am someone’s sister, someone’s cousin, someone's friend. I am not here for your pleasure. Don't comment on my instagram that I am Hot and you be DTF. Don't tell me i'm asking for it When I wear a dress when it's 20 degrees. When I was 16 I wanted to travel the world And now at 17, I don't want to leave my room.
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Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 3:18 PM UTC
This generation
i remember confiding in you. telling you about the men who stole from me, tore apart my flesh, took everything i had when i was too young to understand i was losing something, and i remember your face. your face was filled with pain as you told me it wasn’t my fault, that i did nothing wrong and there was nothing more i could’ve done, you were going to be the good i saw in men. i remember when i told you about the boys who asked me for pictures. and all of the lies they told to force me into doing it, saying they would come to my house and do the things that those men had done, i was afraid. but when i told you there was promise and hope in your eyes, comforting me telling me that once again, i was not to blame. you were going to be the good i saw in men. and then you became worse than the men i had told you about. each and every one. you said it you wanted me to become comfortable in my body. you said that you knew how insecure i was and wanted to make me feel better about myself. you said i had to because if i could do it for other guys, i owed it to him. you said you were going to **** yourself if i didn’t. i loved you, and i think i always will. you made me realize that there is no good in men, and for the two years you forced me into submission, i will never get the part of myself that you stole back.
0
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 4:58 PM UTC
the good in men