it wouldn't come as a surprise
if I took a hammer
and chiseled my body into what
society has carved into stone
oh how a woman's ears bleed when the
words of a colleague, friend or lover
spill their obsession with lusting after
roll-free bodies—
because it's just boys being boys
when their ignorance sexualises the female body—
plucking the ripest perfection as though this is a harvest; spraying their contentment until it seeps into their system and erases securities
until the barbie doll body replays in their minds like a re-running show
acid spills from eyes when the ideal woman is thrust down our throats
magazines sell recipes for the perfect body and the advertised surgical treatments seem to be the
answers to all your problems;
the photoshopped bodies on social media
have suffocated what is natural
tightening airways and eliminating rationality
our bodies were not made to be conquered
by the grips and words and stares of a man
my body is a fortress
not dough for another to mold;
this armour is razor sharp and ice cold—
a sign your ideology is
not welcome
in my home
