His texts border on platonic and predatory
And as he tells me story after story
Of his failures with my gender
I want to tell him to remember
That I am one of those he talks about with such contempt
He says I am not the same, I am not the girls he represents
I don't want to be like the other girls
That roll their eyes and paint their nails
My friends are victims of men like him
But Every time I try to get the words out to say to him
That this is not okay, he brushes them away
And asks "is it that time of month today?"
And as quickly as they came, he forces my words away
I think of strong women before me, and think "maybe another day."
