Made of brass


You know, I’m not Wonder Woman, and I wonder why women accept that expectation. And it’s to my own frustration, that I find that I’m inclined to do the same. And it’s insane. Nobody should be living this way. Under the weight and the wing of a child or ring, like it’s the only damn thing that we’re good for. Like we’re not more. But we do more than ever before, than ever expected. But now we go at it unprotected, a constituency unrepresented and I really resent this attempt to deflect that I object to being disrespected. Where’s my voice in the media? Let me hold up a newspaper to read to ya the words of a thousand and one men and then we’ll be at the meat of the problem. It’s not progress when we descend to oppression. When you take out someone’s choice and second guess them. It’s a disgrace that this is the case I’m faced to rest on. And the rest of the weight of my day to day that I’m forced to put beat to breast on?-Back burned until you learn that these are not buttons you wanna press on. You’re wrong and time to move on. Chattel law a century gone, then cattle called like it’s not wrong? How dare you make that comparison. Your mother must be embarrassed son. If she’s not alive this day, she should be rolling in her grave for what you just tried to legislate on. I will not be patronized for having a vagina between my thighs, and if you can’t hear that word without fear the world will come crashing down around your shoulders, leave the law for someone a bit bolder and old or wise enough to understand that anatomy does not equal vulgarity and having a pussy doesn’t make me one.


About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

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