NOT ALL MEN
I'm afraid of you.
Yes, you, the driver on the empty bus, the last man left in the elevator.
Yes, you with a beautiful smile and the kind eyes, who has done nothing but love since the day, you were born.
I do not know you and all you have suffered, all that you live by or all what you scorn
I know you, the man, who has the potential to hurt, to harm, to kill.
Then walk away from the shame, the guilt, the pain
And no one will ever tell you: It is your actions that tear her into a million unrecognizable parts.
You will not once hear: It is your hands that create something ugly out of her.
No. You will live in the bliss of never knowing how your words, linger on her flesh, the remnants of your great evil
Something of mine will be too tight, too Short.
I will be too kind, too mean, too provocative.
I will provoke you to innocent violence.
And when the pieces, I have fallen into Are ground up in a mortar of guilt by a pestle of Shame.
I will believe it too, and forfeit my presumption of innocence to the masses
I am malicious in nature.
Good enough for your anger and violence alone.
My body, my ashes are worth the pain you cause me and nothing more.
I should choose you. I should let you have me, and I should be grateful
You do what you do because you love me.
And in return I hurt your feelings, your reputation
So I will stay silent and let you haunt me to the backing track of my cries for mercy
And I will keep my legs closed and my skirts long and I will be nice but not too nice.
So that when my neighbor, my lover, or the nameless faceless man reveals to me his deepest and most volatile desires, I am perfect, for you to love.
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