Freedom
I’ve always thought dancing with a stranger in the rain seemed too far fetched
With my mind?
It sounds like a kidnapping
Or a ploy to sell my organs
Even a scheme to violate me
Because in reality I have to always be afraid
I have to always be watchful
I have to be equipped with the body of Wonder Woman and the mind of Charles Xavier
Because I’m a woman I have to be triple of a man to be equal to a man.
I can’t be laid back because it’ll be a shame.
I can’t dilly dally as I like because I’ll be “untamable”.
I can’t own a fluent sexuality without being a whore.
Like I wasn’t also with men who were such.
I have to be defensive enough to not be called angry.
And not too agreeable so when the evil occurs they don’t say I didn’t do enough.
Not that the abuser abused. But that the victim allowed for the victimization.
That I probably wanted it.
I probably caused it.
People only want to see the extremes of my cause.
The insignificant pieces of the whole.
They want to have but not to hold.
To control. To use. To fold.
Isn’t it women after all?
So the only stranger I want to dance with is peace.
I want to frolic in the rain with equity.
Where I know I can truly dance.
I can truly breathe.
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