I did not wear these shorts so you could sexualize my ass,
when I say keep walking I shouldn’t have to ask,
for you to move along and advert your eyes,
which seem to be stuck on my bare thighs,
my skin doesn’t give you the right to hoot and holler,
like some cat prowling in the midnight hour,
and no I do not feel flattered,
when you talk about climbing me like a new bought ladder,
so would you be so kind and advert your gaze,
and dirty comments would you refrain.
My body isn’t here for you to fanaticize,
this isn’t a game with me as the prize,
the skirt I wear isn’t an invitation,
for you to go ahead with your vile recreation.
I shouldn’t be scared to dress as I want,
yet when showing skin you think that I flaunt,
around my body for your eyes to trace,
the pain from you I can never erase,
when your dirty taunts turn to actions,
and you violate me in the lie you call passion.
I shouldn’t have to be bundled in sweaters,
dressed to the neck in all twenty six letters,
it should be my right to dress as I please,
without being seen as a slutty sleaze.
I shouldn’t have to watch my back when I turn,
for it should be the rest of the world who has to learn,
that when I wear this short dress it isn’t a tease,
for you to do with me as you please,
and that today is the problem with society,
because we blame the girl but not the brutality,
and see it as her fault completely,
had she not worn that skirt she wouldn’t have been easy.