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In 2007 I was attacked, at fifteen,
and if his body had turned my body into something else,
into a hub, or a holder, or a cauldron,
you're telling me I'd have no say in stopping that,
that that attack would continue on for nine months
and then eighteen years
and then 'til I die.
That my punishment for a lack of defenses
in an hour long pillaging
would be my life,
and you're telling them that too,
those girls coming up who can't protect themselves
from strangers, or fathers, or brothers, or teachers,
who may now take knives or guns to their hip, to their beds for protection
who may now take their own lives
with no other way out,
you're telling them,
and you're telling me -
that we don't matter
yet again.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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