poetry

I’M DONE WITH THIS

Amidst the zombie horde, I tread,
Their frigid hands upon my skin,
Their poison coursing through my veins,
I am done with this.

In the silent night, a shadow creeps,
A shiver runs through my frame,
Their gaze upon my timid soul,
I am done with this.

A stranger offers words of admonition,
In folded hands and skyward eyes,
I am not ready for this fight,
I am done with this.

But my closest self has taught me well,
To wear my skin tight and strong,
To move with grace and quiet steps,
And now I am done with this.

So I shed the weight of fear and doubt,
And rise anew with strength and might,
No longer bound by earthly chains,
I am done with this endless night.

It’s a natural inclination for women to ask that they not be touched or harassed in crowded places. Hopefully, people will eventually understand how repulsive it feels.

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