Why must I be an object?

As I walk by, I feel as I want to squeal

Their harsh starting, harsh words, harsh motions towards me

"Hey baby", whistling, their disgusting ways

Always I want to ignore them

Always I walk faster, to try and escape

To always quickly get away

 

Why should I feel victimized?

Why should I be an object, if I want to dress in ways I feel confident?

Their inappropriate ways make me want to disappear.

I can't bear to feel fear,

There is no clear way to stop them

They think me ignoring them is an okay,

They think we shouldn't be "stuck up"

They think what they are doing is "right"

I don't see their foresight in this,

I don't see what "right" they feel

I only see the stress, pain, fear, and harassment they give me.

Why must I live in a world where people think this is "okay"?

This poem is about: 
Our world

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