by Natalie Dundas
when you hit me
and told me to run
I thought it would last an eternity
that the look in your glossed eyes
would forever dance through me
and I opened my mouth
and everyone wondered why
I didn't let you shut me up.
you told everyone to be quiet
you thought you were entitled
and that you think it's justified
and it went back and forth
and I crouched down and sobbed
and I let every ounce of my being seep onto the marbled tile
of the house that I am dying in.
I know that this is not beautiful.
Small beings
I sit up staring at my ceiling
the rain plucking at my skylights
evey chord strummed by the little droplets felt
within my chest
I realize that I'm sitting in my bed
as if i'm in a movie
I realize that I look like a fool,
the strange sense of hopelessness sinks into my chest
and I smile;
we are all fools.
Experience
We are all compilations of
experiences;
of who we believe we should be.
We are simply
originally
unoriginal.
The world's woman
She has to be thin enough
To sit on his lap
But curvy enough
So that even her silhouette is accepted
And young girls grow up hearing that
They are just more mature
Than the boys that are excused
And we wonder why
Women do not speak up
When mothers and fathers
Bear girls
That grow into women
who accept love that
Looks like their parents’
And when she is standing in a courthouse
Pointing at another little boy
She is held with suspicion
Because how could she
Allow herself
To a man that was
Never held accountable
should she hate this man?
For he is a narcissistic byproduct of the world’s ignorance
That would only hurt someone else anyways.