A gun was aimed at my head

The policeman found it comical to imagine me dead

He didn’t care that I had a beating heart of my own

He didn’t care because he is put on a throne

To him, we are not the same

A moment doesn’t go by where he doesn’t proclaim

“Women don’t you dare question me!”

I write for my Sisters from other misters

And all their terrible resisters

I write for respect and liberty

I write for the proletariat and bourgeoisie

I write because if I keep on writing

It is bound to result in something exciting

For generations women have fought for other women

Fighting to treat our sisterhood like a delicate persimmon           

Malala Yousafzai and Sojourner Truth

And countless others that doubled as sleuths

I am gonna be heard one day

From the Carolinas to Bombay

Until that day come I will continue to write

While fighting for all women’s rights

With ALL My Might.