Stuck in this chaotic madness,
I can't tell wrong or right.
I'm yet to see an end to this.
I'm yet to stand up and fight.
They held me down and made me hurt.
They showed my shame until it burned.
I cannot stop their hateful game;
they won't stop until my last day.
I'm so far away from home.
I'm trapped, desperate, alone.
It can't stay going their way.
I'm done with being lost prey.
I tear the key from their wretched hands,
I unlock my shackles and break free.
My heart's breaking, you leave it in strands.
All that's left is the shame inside me.
I stand in my prison cell, ready to fight
for my pride, my lust, my simple human rights.
I'm a person, deserving freedom too.
I am disgusted by the one they call "You".
I raise my fist, my rights, my pride;
I strike down the foe that deny my life.
I erase you from this cold society
in hopes you'll see that I've set you free.
Bravo!
Bravo!
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "