The busy street I walk beside to get to work is a bored audience.
I seek applause from car horns and vocal cords but all I get is silence.
The other girls get whistles and beeps and perverts but the perverts don't like me.
People think I'm crazy to want to be degraded but I think of it as validation.
But even the perverts don't like me.
I'm foreign to catcalls, don't get any phone calls at all, no text messages in my phone, no asking me out on a date.
The perverts don't even like me and they like everyone but me.
- Author: lanaevans ( Offline)
- Published: August 28th, 2017 13:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: alisha, Egyptianqt79
Comments1
I love this
Thank you
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