Right here, right now
this is my stage.
To share with you all of my rage,
rage fucking rage.
My rage is because my body is a topic,
it almost feels like it doesn't belong to me.
Everyone seems to have an opinion,
too fat, not pretty, she must be lazy.
Fuck you, that's not the real me,
but you see what you want to see.
I live for me, and only me.
My rage is for my period,
for wanting it to stop.
I don't want children,
but I am told what if?
I shouldn't need a reason,
I shouldn't need an excuse.
Don't project your ideals onto me,
for my life is happily childfree.
My rage is for men's opinions on abortions,
you don't have a vagina, you don't get to talk here.
"But a bloke should have a say?"
Why should a woman give birth if she doesn't want to,
spill your sperm somewhere else,
a child shouldn't be left to be a woman's burden.
Just say you hate women and move along.
I rage because as a lesbian I am not taking seriously,
apparently, I just need a bit of dick inside of me,
I'm not sorry sir, I'm not attracted to tools,
even if I wanted dick it wouldn't be from a fool.
Leave me be, I am a woman loving woman.
I rage from the top of my lungs,
knowing it will never be enough.
Our struggles, our bodies always the topic,
fuck that, now drop it.
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This is my response to WritingMyPrompt August's prompt.
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