Don’t ask me why I wore a skirt
Ask them why the mother’s legs
Didn’t make their penis wander about
And violate her modesty, like they did mine.
Don’t ask me why I was out at night
Ask them about the working sister
She is out still, oblivious about the lecherous brothers
Oblivious there might be another eyeing her
She is me, she has a cunt.
If you can’t do this, give me a scar in the face
That never goes
That reminds you, me
Of the wounds that bleed on the outside
As much as they do inside
And reminds everyone with a cunt
That she will always be ‘the other’
Because today I am afraid
Of the empty house
Of the dark night
Of the lonely corridor
Of a shadow nearing mine
Of walking back to the house,
In a slow pace
Today I am afraid
Of half the human race.
