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***Trigger Warning***   “Boys will be boys” “Let bygones be bygones” “Forget about it” “Get over it.”
****Trigger Warning****     It’s like I want to tear my skin off. I take a breath and hold it. I can’t let it go.
I was handed this object from a man I barely knew. I remember him handing it to me and telling me to keep it a secret.
  Lost to an act so long ago, a kid already but I didn’t know what it was you that you did and yet although I was so naïve I could tell how wrong it was to not go
Today I dyed my arm red I drained myself of life I sat under the stars and took a gasping breath Tomorrow I will wake and repeat the same morning   I will never have the same morning
To the girl who was raped after school hours before track practice, I’m sorry.  The school halls will hustle with talkative voices but yours will never join again.
Feminism It is not just about gender.   It is about the surrender of my identity, for a hypothetical destiny,  
I die ever time I see you I see those eyes and they remind me of a time A time when you told me what to do  I did what I didn't want to I see your eyes and it's the reminder of the fear I have inside of me building
  Lost to an act so long ago, a kid already but I didn’t know what it was you that you did and yet although I was so naïve I could tell how wrong it was to not go
“Your hands held my hips. You pulled me closer. I asked you to stop. You looked at me in a way... nobody had looked at me before. You forced a kiss on my lips. I let you kiss me. You paused. I moved aside slowly, so you wouldn’t notice.
I hate feeling like I have to choose between my country and my race. I haven't said the pledge since Trump has been in office and my heart hurts. My heart bleeds. I love my country.
No matter how hard I scrub No matter how much the water burns The feeling is still there The heaviness remains I can’t burn you off.  
Arid remarks Shrugged-off side glances Painted with painful disdains Torment and colorful disgust Intrinsically defined by nothing but Side comments and catcalls— Little girl.
Papercuts By: Peyton Moore and Lua Varner   Black ink Carefully stenciled onto
Speak Up, Speak Out silence is emptiness emptiness left by our own inaction inaction leads to no where Speak Up, Speak Out nothing said is nothing done why wait years Speak Up, Speak Out
Do not tell me I should of been raised to protect myself When you were never raised to respect me. Do not tell me I should of worn less clothes When you wore less than I had on.
I say I’ve lost my trust in men They ask me where I put it I say it’s in the boy who stuck his hands down my skirt inside a closet   I say I can’t smile even to be polite
It’s different than a period Dripping down your thigh - That’s from me: that’s mine. Not the boy at the party who Let you feel safe -
My body is a aching, trembling,  thinking about him. How he  held my shoulders down, then used his right hand to  squeeze the life out of my throat. I remember,  everything. 
To forget would be a blessing, to remember, a curse. Remember how he held my shoulders down  covered my screams with a sweaty palm, ripping  all pride from my body. I felt rage as he plunged through my body, 
My dear We can take A million showers But we will never Wash off our trauma - Mira S.B. 
Winter: cold and numb. My heart beating like a quiet drum. Manipulation at the highest mountain peak, Unallowing for me to speak.
When I stopped writing when he broke me, It wasn't too big of a deal. My writings weren't very good back then anyway, It really was just “emo poetry” like he called it. Still yet, It was one way of coping
You never know who you can tell. It can make you hide behind your walls and build a shell.  It started with a drink, how did it end up like this? I didn't tell him 'yes,' so why did he give me a kiss? 
When you find out don't treat me differently, don't be more cautious around me. It's hard to feel supported when they see it tear you apart. Don't ask yourself how I'm so normal,
Patterns of abuse. A predator in disguise. But you’re innocent, Maybe I’m in denial. I need to know. Who are you?    
I’ve always worn sweaters in the summertime No matter if cloudy or skies full of shine Sweating down my back, I smiled like I knew it Was cool. Walking alleys, crossing streets, Neutral, just to get through it.
I look normal, I believe, Hungry eyes of a frightened girl stealing moments of weakness in the dark by herself in the night. I believe they don't see it, Most of the time I try to pretend it does not exist.
You water me with your reassurance You made me feel beautiful You dowzed me with sun You forgot to water me  You left me to welt You told me I was pretty  Yet you left me out to welt
Dear Strong, Powerful, Influential women of the #MeToo movement,   Ladies! Arise and shine for thy light has come The world has given unto you the keys to the kingdom No longer will you be termed “The Reject” 
This is a zero sum game This life is what I mean It’s like arguing with someone insane They say seen While you know full well it’s saw
Dear “The name that shall never be spoken”,   What have you created? By who were you created? Who told you it was fine to wreck a home?
I was a temple. A garden of life. My walls were strong and I was humanized. I had tourists of awe who would come to see me, but they never were allowed to be too close, only to view me.
Dear You, I remember the night so clearly. Regardless of the tiny little pill you dropped in my drink I cannot seem to forget. I see the scared adolescent girl,
Oh, I'm screaming, screaming, screaming And I feel it as my soul is teeming with this Fear, this pain, this anger steaming From my mind and my body where you touched me
Love is reckless and wild yet  thoughtful and calm. Love is pain and confusion yet refreshing and understanding Love is Complex yet Simple. But,
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