An Anthem, A hallelujah song

He thinks that he deserves an anthem, a hallelujah song while he touches women in ways that he thought others couldn't. He deserves options and women to claw at his hardened heart in heat. A woman who gets down on her knees and proves her worthiness to him. A woman taken for granted, wanting, ready, waiting. A woman blinded by heavy breathing and tangled up sheets; wrapped around legs that are wrapped around each other. A woman who obeys and pleases, never says no. He thinks he deserves more than he is worth of. A prize, all access to sweet insides and nights spent moaning. He thinks he deserves one night stands filled with one hello and one goodbye. Meetings in the back of the car that leave windows foggy and her gone by the ending. Less talking, more doing. He thinks he deserves these moments where she lets him deep inside her only sacred space. He is not worthy. He is not worthy of spaces that feel the most. The parts of her body that are most vulnerable. He is not worthy of legs spread open, waiting, wanting. He is not worthy of her on her back while he does what he pleases. Not worthy of moaning, tangled up sheets with no sunrise spent together promised. He will not buy her flowers, leave her cute notes, or kiss her cheek when she is feeling down. He will not stay forever or stay until they grow old together. He has nothing to give for an all access VIP pass. He has nothing to give her for the sacrifice of her sacred place. He has nothing to giver her yet he deserves an anthem, a hallelujah song for what? This is not solely a mans job, dedicated to those who have a penis. He deserves nothing for he is not worthy. He has nothing more to offer than she can already give. She deserves an anthem, a hallelujah song.

Phoenix rising

They spit fire at us with gasoline surrounding our feet. Trying to light us up and burn us to the ground. Don't speak like that, dont stand up for yourself like that, dont wear that they say with hatred in their eyes and cold breezes running through their hearts. You asked for it they tell the girl who was raped while wearing a full body suit. It was in your eyes they say. Somewhere along this path we become the weak ones, the ones asking for hatred, to be scarred and broken form within. Women are dying everywhere but they are still alive, dying on the inside, shattered and damaged. We shout for justice with lungs that only produce a whisper. When will they hear us? When will our small roars be loud enough? We shout in the faces of men who created similar sins so they could care less. Our voices are silenced but our hearts are not. This world was built by hands of monsters who take what wasn't given to them and run free. Women all over the world are tired of feeling oppressed we seek liberation, finally its not from the heart of a man, as men are the oppressors. We seek liberation for what men define us as because we didn't ask for it. We will speak like that, we will stand up for our-self just like that, and we will wear whatever the hell we want because hatred was the fire we were built upon and it stopped burning long ago. -M.D.L