I take a bite of a lipstick bullet and
Spit it on a scum of a man that dares to enslave
My child bearing hips.
I tare the skin of a man with my harrowing stiletto heels
That dares to dictate my occupied womb.
I strangle the chords of a man, whose voice dares to stifle mine;
Dares to silence my pleas for peace.
I stab, punch, kick and strike
With my words,
And only in my words.
I pierce the eardrums of a man, with my high-pitched, feminine, poised screams
To set free the caged birds.
But I am not alone; my voice does not ring in isolation.
My voice rings along a spectrum
Of deafening high pitches to deepest vibrations of the chords
The voice of a woman with plenty alike
And the voices of true men
Against the voice of a parody of a man