For the women raped, tortured, silenced. 
For the ones who couldn't fight back,  
because the whole world told them not to. 

Men want us pretty, quiet, obedient. 
A mistress, a maid, a whore, a nymph, 
someone they can use, 
someone they can break, 
and throw away when they're done. 

We aren't people to them-
just paintings with legs, 
art they can fuck, 
spread us open, like butter on bread, 
and call it love. 

Wife, whore, mistress, maid, mother,
the same roles, over and over again. 
Buy beauty, take the screaming one-
because nothing's hotter than a woman who doesn't want you. 

And I'm done. 
Done with the stories, 
the labels, 
the goddamn excuses. 

And I am so fucking tired. 
Tired of pretending this rage isn't justified. 
Tired of pretending this world isn't rotten to its core. 

You burned us once. 
But we're fire now. 
And this time, 
It's your turn to burn.

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A little bit about the author :

Name : Shivangi

Pronouns : she/her

Age : 16

Location : India

Well…i’m just a girl who loves music, literature and my friends. Yeah that pretty much sums me up !

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