Thursday, 27 June 2013

On being told to shut the hell up (a poem)

You say that I am angry and that I should shut the hell up
That I should sit down and take it as if I were not grown up.

You go around calling me just another feminist
Thinking that I go home and burn my bra but let me insist.

That I am sick of the fear, the leers, the creepy sneers from men
who profess to have my best interests clear.

Telling me I'm so curvy, sexy and not a model size
newsflash I wasn't born to attract you fucking guys.

Now I'm sure you're offended by my use of profanity
like I'm offended by your warped sense of entitled reality.

When you get off the night bus and walk me to my door
saying "hey baby it's not as if I'm actually breaking the law".

I'm sick of the patronising darling's, love's, sweetheart's and more.
No, I will not be fucking quiet anymore.

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