Rage V Woe

I sit to write, but all I see in my head is a series of screams.

I listen closer, hoping

to understand. But

the screams continue,

unceasing. Maybe

I’m panicking. In my brain,

where I live with myself every moment,

I shriek.

I’m not viewed as a human

with rights

equal to a man, to an animal,

to a collection of non-sentient cells

in a womb.

I am reduced

to a vessel whose

only worth

is reproduction. I am reduced.

Again.

When the fight

isn’t enough

and the wave of tyranny

washes me out

to sea, I cannot

surrender and allow

myself to float on the

tide of submission… of quiet… of sweet.

When it comes,

I won’t

be screaming anymore. These

screams will give birth

to rage.

Rage is sometimes quiet, but

it is never sweet.

Screams drown out the sound of

swords leaving their scabbards.

I will not be reduced

again.