Naked and UnAfraid

I was born naked,

Roamed my home with laughter,

Playing as an infant,

Free as the wind, fearless in my truth.

You dared to say I’m not a normal woman?

Well, I wore skirts as a child,

Until a man decided his hands

Had the right to feel my thighs.

Cargo pants became my armour,

So I could study, thrive,

While you rated women based on how well they grind.

Is this your idea of strength, of being a man?

What did you do with your first paycheck?

Spend it on a looker—your prize for the night.

You boast of class, watching porn as you sneer,

Claiming I’m the one shoehorning into your life.

You said I was after your money?

That’s laughable, really.

Weren’t you the one lamenting your father’s struggles,

Crying about how you worked hard for your mother’s troubles?

Yet, when a woman speaks of her pain,

Trying to rise,

You mock her,

Exalting another’s body as if it’s a trophy.

And you think I’m the one who’s vile?

Gaudy? Insane?

You lose yourself to booze and laughter,

Yet look down on anyone without your status,

As if people are slaves,

Not humans.

No wonder you work under Jeff Bezos’ pay plan,

Dreaming of being a CEO yourself,

A throne built on calling others ‘stupid,’ laying them low.

That’s the shoe you fit—a cog in the chain,

Feeding a world where human worth dissolves in disdain.

You boldly asked me, "What was I trying to prove?"

I was simply standing up for everyone under the roof.

Now do you really believe I belong in a mental asylum?

What did I want? To simply be a girl—

Not a trophy, not a prize, but free to be real,

Without your labels, your judgments, your ideals.

Yet here I stand,

Naked and unafraid,

Not in body but in truth.

Your labels cannot define me,

Your world cannot contain me.

I am the woman who once played carefree,

And I’ll reclaim that child,

Free as the wind, fearless in my truth.

Comments

My Tips Get The Job Done

Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE works. You get high on your stupid WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach me about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my ladyfingers ...

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Call Your Wife... Call Your Mother...

Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

Cruising Alone

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